Down to the Bone
by pokeitlikejello
Summary: Cuddy develops an eating disorder. Takes place with House's old team. WARNING: Contains sensitive and triggering material.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own House M.D. or the characters. They belong to Fox and David Shore.**  
Author's Note:** I need to start posting something else. I'm sick of Fade to Black. This fic was voted in second to being posted next. Again, I'd like to remind my readers that the material will be graphic and can be triggering. Please, read with caution.

* * *

"Hey."

Cuddy looked up to see a familiar figure in her office. She stood to her feet, smiling at the man with dark hair and green eyes.

"Hi, Josh," she greeted. "What are you—"

"We need to talk," Josh stopped her short and stepped further into her office.

"Oh." Cuddy frowned. "Now? We can meet up—"

"No," he cut her off again. "It has to be now."

"What's going on?" Cuddy demanded, straightening her spine.

Josh approached her desk, an uncomfortable look on his face. Cuddy prepared herself for the worst.

"Listen, Lisa." Josh paused. "I don't see this relationship going anywhere. And... I'm going away on business tomorrow and I'd rather just get this over with."

"You're breaking up with me." Cuddy's face contorted as if she just tasted something sour.

Josh held up his hands, trying to explain. "It's not that I don't think you're kind and smart."

"Then, what is it?" Cuddy asked.

"It just isn't working," he told her, his eyes locked with hers.

Cuddy shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Look, it's not you, it's me," Josh offered.

"That's reassuring," Cuddy replied sarcastically and diverted her eyes.

"Really, Lisa, it isn't you," Josh insisted. "Well, I mean, you're just not my type. I'm sure you're someone's type, but I'm looking for a woman who..."

Cuddy raised her gaze back to him. "Who what?"

"Who's different," Josh said. "I didn't feel the click with you." He took a step back. "I have to go. Just... take care of yourself, all right?"

"Sure," Cuddy numbly responded, feeling completely blind sided.

"Bye, Lisa." Josh gave a slight nod and then headed out of her office.

"Bye," Cuddy called out after him.

Slowly, Cuddy lowered herself back down to her chair. Her eyes fell to her desk, unsure of what just happened. She thought her relationship with Josh was working out well. Of course, she didn't consider herself to be in love with him, but she never ruled out that possibility to occur.

This was her third failed relationship in the last eight months. She didn't understand what she was doing wrong to make men feel like they had to corner her in her office to break up with her. She didn't understand why her seemingly well relationships kept failing.

As Cuddy was still lost in her own thoughts, House barged into her office.

"Good afternoon, Cuddy," he greeted with mock brightness. "I need—"

"Is there something wrong with me?" Cuddy locked eyes with House.

House raised his eyebrows. "Self pitying early, I see."

Cuddy focused on House and his presence in her office, her professional side taking over again.

"What is it you want?"

"Oh, no." House shook his head as he crossed the room. "Let's go back to what you were saying."

"Nothing." Cuddy gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Never mind."

House stopped in front of her desk and jammed his cane into the ground. "Of course there's something wrong with you, Cuddy. You're a woman."

"What do you want, House?" she asked, placing harshness in her tone.

"Got a little problem," House said, even though he was still curious as to what had made Cuddy upset.

"Yes?" Cuddy eyebrows shot up.

"I need blood samples," House told her.

"Uh-huh." Cuddy encouraged him to go on.

"From a church congregation."

Cuddy's eyebrows drew together, so House went on, "my patient's mute and I need to know which scumbag in her church she got an STD from."

"Your patient isn't mute," Cuddy replied, staring at House, unimpressed.

"She hasn't spoken a word since two hours after admittance," House explained.

Cuddy shook her head. "I don't have the authority to demand blood samples from an entire congregation, House."

"Call up a friend in the police department," House suggested.

"They don't have any authority to either." Cuddy leaned back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest.

"They so do," House argued.

"Not without a concrete reason, which you don't have," Cuddy responded. "Why do you need to know who she got the STD from? You're really that concerned about informing him?"

"Or her," House added. He paused a moment. "I'm thinking the sex partner may have similar symptoms and can give us some insight into what went on in their little encounter."

Cuddy planted her hands on her desk and leaned forward, her eyes locked with House's. "Get her to talk."

"She won't!" House insisted, his volume rising.

"Then, tough," Cuddy spat back.

House frowned, cocking his head to one side. "Come on, Cuddy."

"No," she said. "I can't do it. I have zero authority on this."

"Couldn't you lie?" House asked, insulted that she was slighting him.

"No," she answered. "Either she spills or figure something else out."

House leaned closer to Cuddy. "So, no really does mean no?"

"Yes," Cuddy bitterly replied.

House eyed Cuddy up. "You should apply that to your food choices, Cuddy, because your ass is getting huge."

With that, House turned around and limped as quickly as he could manage from Cuddy's office. She watched him go, a frown set on her face.

* * *

Cuddy looked over from her computer when she heard the knock on her office door. She gave a wave, signaling for Wilson to enter.

"Hey, Lisa," he said.

"Hi, James," Cuddy replied, a tired smile on her face.

"Are you ready?" Wilson asked.

A look of confusion crossed over Cuddy's face before it switched into realization. "Oh, I completely forgot, I'm sorry. Could we do this another time?"

"Yeah." Wilson nodded. "Sure."

"I'm sorry," Cuddy apologized again. "Things were shifted in my schedule and I have a meeting in ten."

"Really, it's fine," Wilson told her. "Just make sure you get something to eat."

Cuddy forced a smile on her face this time. Wilson returned the smile and let himself out of her office. Cuddy turned back to her computer screen.

"Yeah, so my ass can get even bigger," she muttered.

* * *

Cuddy stared at her reflection in her bathroom mirror as she stood in only her underwear. She leaned closer to the mirror, examining every inch of skin on her face.

"Maybe I'm getting old," she muttered to herself. "I don't think I look _that_ old."

She frowned as she pulled and prodded at the skin around her eyes.

"Men aren't interested," she continued talking to herself. "I chase them off. Maybe I'm too into my work or I use my intelligence as a defense mechanism or... something."

Cuddy took a step back from the mirror and directed her gaze downward.

"Or maybe House is right." Her eyebrows drew together. "Maybe I've been putting on weight and haven't been noticing." She tried to get a glance at her backside. "Maybe my ass is fat."

She looked back down at her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. She placed her hand on the upper part of her right thigh.

"And my thighs," she added.

Cuddy lifted her hand and pinched the flesh near her belly button.

"And my stomach." She let out a sigh and released her skin. "Maybe I'm not as attractive as I once thought I was. I haven't been running as much... I—"

She took a step back from the mirror and lifted her head so her eyes met her reflection's.

"Maybe I should diet," she suggested to herself. "Just a couple pounds to get in shape."

Cuddy gave a nod and left her bathroom, deciding to get dressed and go for a run.

* * *

Cuddy stepped away from the lunch line, tray in hand. She was munching on a carrot stick as she weaved through the people in the cafeteria, unaware that House was limping behind her and gaining ground.

"That's all your eating?" House asked as he popped up alongside of Cuddy.

Cuddy jumped and stopped in her tracks. She swallowed hard and glared at House. This gave House the opportunity to truly exam the items Cuddy purchased. Her tray contained an apple, a bottle of water, and a container of celery and carrot sticks.

"You scared me," Cuddy told him. "I almost choked."

"Good thing I'm a doctor," House replied.

"Yeah."

Cuddy left the cafeteria, but House kept on her tail, needing to get an okay from her, which was never a favorite task of his.

House gave her a nudge as he stepped up next to her. "Starving yourself?"

"I had a big breakfast," she lied, keeping her focus ahead.

"I can tell," House said. "Pancakes with extra syrup?"

Cuddy shot him a look. "The fat jokes are wearing thin."

"That's the only thing that's wearing thin with you."

Cuddy stopped for a second time. She faced House, a clear look of annoyance on her face.

"Did you come and find me for a specific purpose?"

House came to a stop as well, but he kept his distance. "Mute girl still won't talk. She's almost dead."

"Not my fault," Cuddy replied, sensing his accusatory tone.

"I need blood samples," House insisted.

"Aren't you infamous for snooping, House?" Cuddy asked. "Mute girl has friends, doesn't she?"

"You wish."

Cuddy let out a sigh, knowing House wasn't going to just go away on his own. She held her tray with one hand while she planted the other on her hip.

"Why did she stop talking?"

"She just stopped," he said.

"But, she can talk?" Cuddy raised her eyebrows.

"Yes," House answered.

"How do you know?"

"Poked her with something very sharp."

Cuddy narrowed her eyes. House shrugged.

"Accident."

"When did she stop talking?" Cuddy shifted her weight.

"We did a full exam and then she shut up," House explained.

"Full exam?" Cuddy repeated. "Including pelvic?"

"She mumbled something about STDs so we had to check her out and she was right," House told her.

"Maybe she was raped," Cuddy offered.

It all connected in House's mind. "Damn it. I'll get Cameron to talk to her."

"And if she was raped, call the cops." Cuddy wanted to make sure House kept up the legal side of their jobs as well.

House ignored her statement and pointed to her plate. "You're really going to eat _all_ of that?"

Cuddy swatted at his hand, but House pulled back and limped away from her. She looked down at her tray.

"No," she answered his question even though he was out of earshot. She wasn't feeling very hungry anymore.

Cuddy removed the bottle of water from her tray and walked over to the nearest garbage. She dumped the rest of the contents into the garbage and headed back toward the cafeteria to return the tray.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, everyone! Thanks so much for the comments. I really appreciate them. And I would just like to remind everyone that this will contain graphic and triggering content. Please, read with caution.**

**

* * *

**

"Five pounds," she muttered, a frown on her face as she played with the black dial on the scale. "I can't even tell. I hate hospital scales."

The door to the clinic exam room opened and Cuddy quickly got off the scale. House stood in the doorway, perplexed for a moment, but then he stepped into the room.

"Those things don't weigh in tons, Cuddy," House told her and swung the door shut behind him.

Cuddy made a face at him and slipped on her heels.

"What were you doing?" House asked.

"Paperwork," Cuddy snarled with sarcasm.

"Fine." House shrugged. "Don't tell me you're pregnant."

"I'm not pregnant," Cuddy bitterly replied.

"Oh." House placed a frown on his face. "That's weird. I thought you were putting on weight. My bad."

Cuddy planted a hand to her hip. "What are you doing in here?"

"Working, of course," House said, rolling his eyes.

"Of course," Cuddy agreed and headed for the door. "I'll send a patient in for you."

"Thanks!" House called out sarcastically, but she already closed the door.

* * *

House sauntered up to where Cuddy stood at the nurse's station in the Clinic. He leaned against the counter and eyed Cuddy up.

"Is it just me, or have your breasts shrunk?" House asked her.

"Actually, I lost a bit of weight," Cuddy told him and slapped the chart she was holding shut.

"But, you took all the fun out of your funbags, Cuddy," House said, peering down at the deflated 'funbags.' "And it only makes your ass look bigger."

She frowned at him. "You know, some men like—"

"Junk in the trunk?" House cut her off, raising his eyebrows.

Cuddy glared at him for a moment before storming off. House watched her go, beginning to think there was something seriously wrong.

* * *

Cuddy turned over onto her back. She was hungry.

It was after one in the morning and in less than five hours, she would have to get up for work. She was exhausted, but she couldn't shut her mind off to fall asleep. Her thoughts kept going to her empty stomach and the fact that there was food in the kitchen.

Cuddy rolled onto her left side and clutched at her abdomen. She just wanted the empty, hollow feeling to go away, but she knew if she ate, she would be disappointed. It wouldn't be too long before morning when she could eat something small for breakfast.

"You won't die if you don't eat right now," she reminded herself aloud. "So, just close your eyes and fall asleep."

She shut her eyes and tried to think about something other than food. Her thoughts went to her schedule starting from when she would wake up, through work, and the rest of her night. As she went over every detail of her plans, she finally began to drift off.

* * *

The alarm blared on the night stand beside Cuddy's bed. She groaned and reached over for her alarm clock. After turning off the alarm, she remained in bed, eyes closed, telling herself that she needed to get up. However, her energy was lacking.

Cuddy forced her eyes open and sat up in bed. Her head felt light and her stomach was unsettled. She shoved her covers off and placed her feet on the floor. She waited a minute before standing on two unsteady feet.

She swallowed hard, her head feeling even lighter. Her hands and feet were cold and numb, but Cuddy ignored that as she trudged out of her bedroom and down the hall. She knew she had to eat something because the spots that began to impede on her vision were not a good sign.

Cuddy drew in a deep breath as she opened her refrigerator door. She knelt to the floor and let the cool air come over her as she scanned the fridge, her vision getting splotchy with black. A green apple was in her line of sight and she grabbed it with a shaky hand.

Munching quickly, Cuddy chewed the fruit and swallowed. She took another large bite and didn't chew it very long before swallowing the large chunks. She paused a moment, gaining some of her sense back. She realized just how close she was to passing out.

Sitting back on her heels, Cuddy continued to eat the apple. She thought about the previous few days and just how little she had eaten. She chastised herself, telling herself she should have eaten the night before instead of skipping both lunch and dinner.

Cuddy reached the core of the apple fairly quickly. She let her hand holding the core drop down, the juices of the apple running down her arm. She covered her eyes with her other hand and sighed.

"What are you doing to yourself, Lisa?" She gave herself a moment before whispering, "I don't know."

Her tongue running over her bottom lip, Cuddy stood to her feet. She felt better after eating, even if it was just an apple. She closed the refrigerator door and tossed the apple core in the trash.

Cuddy washed her hands, making sure to clean off any residual apple juice. She also rinsed her mouth after getting some of the juice on her chin after her frantic eating.

When she had finished, she turned on her coffee maker and headed out of the kitchen. Cuddy made her way into her bedroom and began to dress for work. Her motions were tired and drained, as if she wasn't even present.

A half hour later, she was completely dressed and ready to go. Cuddy poured herself black coffee into her travel mug. She usually put milk in her coffee, but she wanted to avoid added calories at any cost—even if that meant she had to drink her coffee black.

* * *

Cuddy swiped at her eyes with a sweaty arm. She was running as fast as her feet would take her, not wanting to ever slow down. Her adrenaline had kicked in and she would use it to the max as long as it was there. She was usually tired, she was usually distracted, so having this feeling made her never want to stop running.

As Cuddy continued down the sidewalk at top speed, she caught her foot on an uneven part in the concrete and went flying forward. She hit the ground and the wind was instantly knocked out of her.

The pain started in her hands, her arms, and her knees. Her teeth had smashed together as her chin scraped along the ground. She ran her tongue over her teeth, thankful when she was reassured she hadn't cracked any of them.

"You all right?"

An older man's voice asked as Cuddy watched his legs approach. She was curled onto one side, bleeding and dirty. She looked up at the man that stopped next to her. He appeared genuinely concerned as he ran a hand over his greying hair.

"Want me to call an ambulance?" he asked.

Cuddy shook her head and forced herself to sit up. She winced as she realized more than just her bleeding wounds hurt. The man extended a hand and Cuddy took it. He helped her to her feet and steadied her.

"Are you sure you don't want me to call?" He offered her his handkerchief, indicating her bleeding chin.

"I'm fine," Cuddy told him, even though she was in pain and completely embarrassed. She took the handkerchief from him and placed it to her chin.

"You've got to be careful around here," the man said. "Some of the sidewalks are a bit uneven. I always remind my wife of that. She's got bad hips."

"I know about the sidewalks," Cuddy replied. "I just wasn't paying attention."

"Do you want me to give you a ride home?" He was still very concerned.

"No." Cuddy shook her head. "No, it's fine. I'm right up there. Thanks."

"I'll walk you," he offered. "Just let me tell the wife."

"No," she protested. "Really. I'm good."

"Okay." He seemed uncertain. "You can keep the handkerchief."

"Thanks." Cuddy forced another smile to her face.

Slowly, she began to limp her way toward her home, her scraped knees causing her eyes to tear. She held her breath, trying her best not to limp or show any outward signs of pain, especially since she new the man was watching her.

It felt like over a half hour before Cuddy made it down the half block. As soon as she knew she was out of sight from mostly anyone who would be outside, she bent over and limped heavily towards her front door. She still had the handkerchief pressed to the scrape on her chin.

Cuddy entered her home and shut the door behind herself. She stared down her hallway, thinking it was much too far to make it to the bathroom. She felt her stomach rumble and silently told it to shut up. Drawing in a deep breath, Cuddy forced herself to keep walking until she reached the bathroom.

Once she was in the bathroom, Cuddy worked on stripping off her clothes. As she pulled off her shorts, she was aware of the ache in her back. Her eyes scanned over her pair of knees which were dirty and bloody, scraped up skin hanging from them.

Cuddy removed her socks, sneakers, and underwear before moving on to her upper half. She pulled her shirt off, aware of each scrape as the shirt fabric, soaked with her sweat, caused her more pain. Cuddy let the shirt drop to the floor. She pulled off her sports bra next and once again, the pain of her scrapes intensified.

Letting the handkerchief fall into the sink, Cuddy drew in a breath. She raised her gaze to meet her reflection. The scrape across the bottom of her chin was still actively bleeding. There was a redness that started to bruise on her chest.

Cuddy frowned and turned on the water to her sink. She carefully placed her bloody and dirt caked palms under the faucet, flinching for a moment before she forced herself to ignore the pain of the water pressure on her hands.

She rinsed her arms next, flicking a few small rocks from a particularly nasty cut on her left forearm. Cuddy rolled her eyes, her mind repeating the word 'idiot' over and over again.

Drawing in a deep breath, she turned the water off. She painfully crossed over to the bathtub and turned on the water. She sat on the edge of the tub, the porcelain cold against her skin. Carefully, she began to clean the dirt and blood from her knees.

An hour later, Cuddy was cleaned, dried, bandaged, and changed into the most comfortable sweatshirt and pair of sweatpants she could find. She collapsed onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

She recounted what she had eaten that day. The morning apple, a coffee, a half of a sandwich, and another coffee. It was nearing seven o' clock and her stomach grumbled again. She considered eating, but she really didn't want to eat, nor move for that matter, so she stayed in bed.

Her hand slipped down her empty, flat stomach to her hipbones. They had been protruding more recently, especially when lying down. She found that she was really enjoying just how far they stuck out from her body.

Cuddy let her eyes close. She was exhausted and her body was in pain. As she thought about what she could eat if she eventually decided to drag herself out of bed, she found herself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?"

Cuddy turned and narrowed her eyes at House. He approached her, a pleased expression on his face as he got a better look of the scrape on her chin.

"I fell," Cuddy told him, finding it would be easier to give in to him than to try to hide the truth. Her mind was fuzzy and working much slower than usual. She figured she should have had more than a coffee for breakfast.

"You fell?" House repeated, his eyebrows darting up. "And landed on your face?"

He jabbed his cane into her left knee. Cuddy let out a cry of pain and quickly placed her hand there, rubbing gently. House eyed her up, questions and suspicions running through his mind.

"How's the other knee?" House tried to jab at her right knee, but she stepped aside just in time to avoid his poke.

"It hurts," she said. "Okay? We done? Because I have a ton of work to do, House."

Cuddy turned from him and began toward her office, her original destination before he interrupted. Her knees still hurt and each step reminded her of her stupidity at falling during her run yesterday.

House followed her.

"Are you sure it wasn't from all the rough sex?" he called out to her.

Cuddy stopped in her tracks and faced him, glaring.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed. "Go to your office, House, and don't say another damn word to me."

"What the hell is your problem, Cuddy?"

"_You_," she snapped. "Now, leave me alone. I'm busy."

House kept up at her side. "You're awfully cranky."

"And you're awfully annoying," she replied.

"Hey, hold on."

House grabbed her at the wrist and turned her hand over, revealing her raw and red palm. He brought his eyes up to hers.

"What were you doing that you fell?"

"Running," Cuddy answered, the word bitter.

He raised his eyebrows. "From?"

Hers drew together. "What?"

"What were you running from, Cuddy?" he prompted.

Cuddy yanked her hand back.

"I was just running."

She turned and stalked away, ignoring the pain of her knees. House let her go, his mind trying to piece together all the little facts he had been collecting over the last few weeks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, guys! Thanks for the comments. ****I'd like to say that this chapter has a particularly graphic scene. Please, read with caution.  
**

**

* * *

**

She was starving herself. She _knew_ that. She wasn't stupid. She _knew_. And she tried to be smart about this trap she fell into.

She took multi-vitamins to receive some of the vitamins and minerals she wasn't receiving due to her lack of eating. But, taking the pills on her empty stomach made her nauseous beyond comfort and so she ultimately decided to stop taking them.

She was fighting a losing battle. Maybe even a losing war. She encouraged herself to keep going, to make it through one more day because things in her life weren't better. Actually, they had started to seem to be getting worse.

But, when she thought about giving up on everything she had been engaging in, there was a little nagging voice in her head that told her to continue on her path. This little nagging voice had turned into a monster, her demon. And she hated him with everything in her. But, she couldn't let herself get rid of him either. At least, right now, she didn't want to.

* * *

House intercepted Cuddy as she passed by the elevators. She was heading towards the Clinic after walking down three flights of stairs.

"What are you wearing?" House sneered, making a face at her.

"Clothes," Cuddy snapped, keeping up her pace and not looking at him.

"I can't see your breasts, Cuddy," House pointed out, eyeing up the fabric of her beige sweater.

"Good," Cuddy replied, still refusing to look at him.

"Wait a second." House gave a tug on her sleeve's thick, soft fabric. "You do realize you're wearing a sweater in May, right?"

"The air conditioning is cold."

She sent a glare in his direction and he released the sleeve. However, he still walked alongside of her.

"And you're wearing pants." House's eyes drifted downward. "I didn't know you owned a pair."

Cuddy stopped walking and tiredly looked over at him. "I don't have to wear a skirt to be professional."

"No, but it doesn't hurt," House told her. "Especially when you've got the legs to show off."

She shook her head and took off again. "I'm busy."

He kept up with her. "You're walking."

"To my office to do work," she added. "Don't you have a patient?"

"Nope," he answered.

"Then, maybe you should be seeing patients here," she called over her shoulder as she passed through the doors of the Clinic.

House followed her through and grabbed onto the sleeve of her sweater again. She stopped when she felt the pull and turned to face him. He lowered his voice, his eyes locked with her dull ones.

"You look tired all the time."

"I'm stressed." She pulled her arm slightly to get him to release her sleeve.

"You look sick," he said.

"I'm not," she replied.

"You're pale," he added.

Cuddy shrugged. "Haven't been getting as much sleep."

"Well, you should try to get more because you look awful," he told her.

"I will." She nodded, her tone sarcastic. "Thanks."

Cuddy headed toward her office while House watched her for a moment, debating on giving up or going after her. He picked up his pace and skirted around her so he could block her from entering into her office.

"Are you okay?" His eyes were locked with hers again, wanting the truth from her instead of her avoidance.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she told him, but her tone indicated otherwise.

He raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

She made a face. "Yes, _Wilson_, thanks."

"I was just—" House shook his head. "You know what, Cuddy? Do whatever the hell you want."

House turned from her and began for the Clinic doors. Cuddy watched him go, knowing that he had an idea of what she was doing and now he going to let her do as she pleased. But, she couldn't be sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

* * *

She had lost control. As she stood in the kitchen, her stomach too full and empty food containers lying about, she couldn't figure out how she let herself lose control. Hot tears streamed down her face as she fully realized what she had done.

Now frantic, Cuddy glanced toward her clock. It was going for midnight. She hurried out of the kitchen and to her bathroom. Her stomach was doing flip flops and she just wanted to feel as empty as she did before her binge happened. She needed to not feel this full anymore.

Cuddy lifted the lid to the toilet seat as she knelt down in front of it. Her mouth was watering as she felt close to vomiting. She spit into the toilet and breathed heavily. She wanted to vomit, knowing it would relieve her.

After a few minutes passed, Cuddy was still working through her nausea by breathing. She realized if she was going to throw up, it wasn't going to happen without help.

Cuddy took two fingers and put them to the back of her mouth. She pressed down on her tongue, wanting to trigger her gag reflex. She knew this was a bad idea, but the thought of all the food she consumed sitting in her stomach was making her feel worse.

She began gagging and removed her hand. Cuddy coughed, but nothing came up. She knew she had to go further. She jammed her fingers toward the back of her mouth again, more determined this time. She coughed and gagged for a second time, but she refused to remove her hand. Not until something came up.

Her stomach lurched and she pulled her fingers out of her mouth as she began to throw up. It was the cereal she ate. It burned the back of her throat, her insides not only ejecting from her mouth, but from her nose as well.

Cuddy took in gulps of air after the vomiting stopped. Her nose was partially clogged and her stomach still felt full. Her fingers were dirty from the same vomit that floated in the toilet.

Tears dropping from her red and watery eyes, Cuddy leaned over the toilet again. She stuck her two wet and cold fingers to the back of her mouth. She pressed down and moved them around until she began to throw up for a second time.

It was the cereal again and it mixed crackers and then the orange from the carrots she had eaten first to keep her hunger away. The carrots she had eaten before the binge took over. She coughed and sputtered, not wanting the rejected food getting stuck in her throat. She spat into the toilet, her face marked with tears, toilet water, and vomit, and then sat back on her heels.

Cuddy reached for the handle to the toilet with her clean hand and flushed it. She forced herself to stand, her head throbbing. She caught a look of herself in the mirror as she stood in front of the sink. Her face was red and her eyes were bloodshot.

She turned on the water and washed her hands first. After, she began to clean her face and rinse her mouth while trying to blow the vomit out of her clogged nose.

Once she was satisfied, Cuddy turned off the water and dried her face. She grabbed a couple of tissues and blew her nose as hard as she could into them, surprised when she pulled back and saw flecks of orange carrot in her tissues. Cuddy did her best to make sure her nose was clean before throwing the tissues away.

Her head throbbing and her body exhausted, Cuddy left her bathroom and headed toward her bedroom. Her throat was raw and burning, but her stomach felt emptier, better, and that was all that seemed to matter.

* * *

House watched her walk through the doors of the cafeteria. She entered into the line, her movements stiff and slow. She was wearing pants again and a long sleeved shirt. Both items seemed too big for her.

"House."

Coming to attention, House looked over to Wilson. Wilson had his eyebrows raised, staring at his friend expectantly for a response. House hadn't been listening and he really didn't care.

"Have you noticed Cuddy's been losing weight?" House asked.

Wilson frowned, not expecting for House to change the subject. "Yeah, I guess." Wilson spotted Cuddy in line. He gave a nod towards her. "She's still eating."

House glanced back toward Cuddy before shaking his head at Wilson. "You don't know that."

Wilson shrugged. "She's getting in shape."

"For what?" House cocked an eyebrow.

Wilson caught on to where House was going. "You think something's wrong?"

"Ask her to sit," House said.

"Lisa!" Wilson called out and waved toward Cuddy as she left the cafeteria line.

Cuddy appeared surprised for a second before she made her way over to their table. She kept her tray held high, but House still caught the sight of the small salad with no dressing and the apple sitting on top.

"Hey," she greeted them both, a tight smile on her face.

"Want to join us?" Wilson offered and pushed out an empty chair toward her.

Cuddy stared at the chair, shaking her head. "No, I have a lot of work to get done." She looked back to Wilson. "But, thanks."

"You sure?" House asked. "We're very riveting people."

"Another time," she told them and headed for the cafeteria doors.

House leaned closer to Wilson and lowered his voice. "She's lying."

"About?" Wilson was unsure.

"Everything," House answered and leaned back.

Wilson raised his eyebrows. "You think she's not eating?"

House shrugged. "Look at her."

"She's lost weight, but that–—"

"She's underweight," House corrected him.

"Well..." Wilson frowned. "Just because she's lost weight, that doesn't mean she's doing it in an unhealthy manner."

"She's pale, cranky, tired..." House trailed off. He lowered his head slightly, his tongue running over his bottom lip. "Besides, her eyes say it all."

Wilson thought a moment before he nodded. "She has been kind of distant lately. I just thought that she's been busier."

"She's avoiding both of us," House said.

"So, what should we do?" Wilson asked.

"Call her on it," House replied.

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Do you think that's the best idea if you're right about this?"

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Talk to her," Wilson offered. "Let her talk to us."

House shook his head. "Talking doesn't get anyone anywhere."

"Why don't I try?" Wilson suggested. "You'd just upset her with your attitude, but maybe I can get to the bottom of it."

"Fine." House shrugged. "Be my guest."

* * *

Wilson tapped on the glass to Cuddy's office door before he let himself in. She looked up from her desk, a pen in hand.

"Hey, Lisa," he greeted. "Busy?"

"A bit," she answered and gave him a small smile.

"It wouldn't take much time," he said.

Cuddy put her pen down and set her folded hands on top of her desk. "What's up?"

"I noticed I haven't been seeing you around as much." Wilson walked toward her desk, stopping behind the chairs across from it.

"Yeah," Cuddy agreed. "Sorry."

"No, it's all right," Wilson told her. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Cuddy replied, trying to sound cheerful. "Why? Do you think something is wrong?"

"No." Wilson shook his head, but then stopped. "I mean, yes. You seemed stressed, tired."

"I'm both, but it's okay," Cuddy said. "I'm fine. Really."

"There's nothing else bothering you?" Wilson asked.

"Nope," Cuddy answered and she realized what was going on. House must have mentioned his suspicions to Wilson.

"Okay." Wilson took a step back. "Well, we'll have to make a lunch or dinner date soon."

Cuddy brightened her tone. "Sure."

Wilson held Cuddy's eye contact and gave a short nod before turning and letting himself out of her office. She frowned the instant he left as she wondered how long she would be able to keep this charade up.

* * *

"Well?" House raised his eyebrows as he watched Wilson approach from the Clinic.

"Nothing," Wilson told his friend as they began toward the elevators. "I don't know, House. Maybe she's fine. Maybe she's just not getting enough sleep."

"She may fool you, but she isn't fooling me," House told him.

Wilson frowned. "House."

"Wait and see, Wilson," House replied and pressed the button for the elevator.

* * *

House entered Cuddy's office and held up a box of chocolates. She watched him cross the room, her eyebrows raised.

"I brought you something," he told her.

Cuddy stared at the chocolates box. "What's wrong with it?"

House shrugged. "Nothing."

"Just set it there." Cuddy gave a nod toward her desk.

"Aren't you going to have a piece?" House asked and placed the box where she indicated.

"What's wrong with it?" Cuddy repeated her question as she stared suspiciously at him.

"Nothing," House answered for a second time. When he realized this wasn't working, he came clean. "I know what you're doing."

"Do you?" Cuddy's tone was flat, her eyebrows raised, unimpressed.

"Yes," House replied.

Cuddy leaned forward and placed her chin in her palm. "And what is that?"

House lifted two fingers and stuck them in his mouth. He bent over, pretending to vomit. Cuddy sat up straighter and glared at him.

"I don't do that," she said.

"Oh, I'm sorry." House stood erect and stared at Cuddy for a few moments before adding, "That was me not eating."

She frowned. "I don't do that either."

"Liar," House accused.

"I eat," she insisted.

"Then, have a piece of chocolate." House slid the box toward her.

"And that'll prove what, House?" Cuddy asked him.

"Just eat it." House shrugged. "No big deal."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and picked up the box. She tore the plastic from it and pulled the top off. She took a piece and placed it in her mouth. She chewed it, her mouth salivating, the sugar and taste of chocolate something she hadn't experienced in a long time.

"Better?" she asked him, the chocolate still in her mouth.

House eyed her up a moment before turning and leaving. Once out of her outer office, he ducked behind a corner in order to spy on her. He caught sight of Cuddy spitting the chocolate into a tissue before throwing it, and the opened box of chocolates, into the trash.


	4. Chapter 4

**Just wanted to apologize for a lack of update. Life's been happening (or not happening for that matter), but, in any case, things were being sorted out in my life and yeah, so, hopefully there won't be as long a wait for the next chapter.**

**

* * *

**

The sweat was dripping into her eyes and she couldn't breathe.

After falling outside, Cuddy had taken to going to a gym instead. She quickly became a regular, attending for several hours a day, nearly seven days a week. The few times when she wouldn't make it to the gym, she worked out at home, often running up and down her basement stairs until she became dizzy.

"Just a little longer," she muttered to herself. "Almost done."

She was running on a treadmill. She was almost through with six miles after biking for an hour and a half. Cuddy began to feel light headed. She closed her mouth and took in a deep breath through her nose.

The machine beeped. Cuddy slowed her pace to fall in step with the treadmill until it stopped completely. Breathing heavily, she stepped off the treadmill and stood still, wanting to catch her breath. She felt like she was going to collapse.

Cuddy quickly placed a hand over her heart as it palpitated beneath her chest. It lasted for a few uncomfortable seconds before the feeling faded. Shaking her head slightly, Cuddy walked on wobbly feet towards the benches near the wall.

She stopped at her duffle bag and pulled out her water bottle. She took a long drink from it and then sat down on the bench. A ringing snapped her to attention and she dug through her duffle bag until she found her cell phone.

Cuddy flipped it open and held it near her ear, but kept distance because she didn't want to sweat on her phone.

"Hello?" Cuddy breathed out into the phone.

"Hey." It was Wilson. "What are you doing?"

"Just got done exercising," Cuddy answered, still working on regulating her breathing.

"Oh," Wilson replied. "I was trying to get in touch with you for the past three hours."

"Is something wrong?" Cuddy let her back rest against the wall.

"I wanted to let you know the status of McEnery's cancer treatment," Wilson said. "The results came in today."

"And?" Cuddy prompted and took another drink of water.

"And the treatment's working," Wilson continued, "but the side effects are taking a toll. I suggest we move him into the hospital to see if we can improve his health."

"What are his side effects?" Cuddy pulled a towel from her duffle bag and wiped her face.

"Confusion, low heart rate, and persistent headaches," Wilson rattled off the problems plaguing Mr. McEnery.

"And that's from the drug?" Cuddy asked and shoved her towel back into her duffle bag.

"Yes," Wilson answered.

"Admit him and see if we can help him," Cuddy told him. "The McEnerys have been donors to our hospital for the last ten years and they deserve the best."

"Thanks."

"Yep."

Cuddy zipped her duffle bag and slid it over her shoulder before standing to her feet. Wilson hesitated on his end of the line before speaking up.

"Lisa?"

She breathed out. "Yeah?"

"Are you all right?" His concern was clearly evident in his tone.

"Yeah." Cuddy nodded even though he couldn't see her. "Why?"

"I don't know." Wilson paused. "You sound winded."

"Just had a work out," Cuddy replied.

"Right," Wilson agreed. "Never mind." He paused for a second time. " Well, thanks, again. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay." Cuddy frowned. "Bye, James."

"Bye."

Cuddy hung up her phone and picked up her bottle of water. She took another long drink from it before she headed for the door, her legs feeling like lead and her head throbbing.

* * *

A look of confusion crossed over Cuddy's face as she approached her front door. She adjusted the duffle bag strap on her shoulder as she stepped onto the porch.

House removed himself from where he was leaning against her front door. Cuddy stopped in front of him, eyeing him up.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Waiting for you," he answered.

"Why?"

House shrugged. "Was in the neighborhood."

"And you thought you'd wait?" Cuddy stepped past him and unlocked her front door.

"Why not?" he replied.

Cuddy pushed open her front door. "I can't let you in. I'm going to shower."

House watched her as she entered into her home. Cuddy turned to face him, making sure he was going to leave.

"You're getting naked and you're telling me to leave?" House said as he raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," Cuddy told him and attempted to close the door.

"Right."

House stopped the door before she could close it, and forced his way inside. Cuddy debated on what to do for a moment before she decided to give up with a sigh. She let her duffle bag drop to the floor as she made her way to her bedroom.

Watching her go, House knew something had happened to his Cuddy. His Cuddy never gave up without a fight. Instead of following her to her bedroom and pestering her further, House made a detour to the kitchen. Once inside, he went over to the refrigerator and opened the door.

House examined the contents of the nearly bare fridge. There was a half filled Brita water pitcher and a four cans of diet coke on the top shelf. The middle shelf held a few stalks of celery, two cucumbers, and one green pepper all in plastic bags. A box of baking soda sat on the bottom shelf, alone.

Using the tip of his right sneaker, House pulled open one of the two drawers underneath the bottom shelf. Two apples and an orange sat in another plastic bag. The other drawer was empty. House pushed the drawer closed and straightened up.

"What are you doing?" Cuddy asked as she stood in the doorway with her arms folded over her chest.

"Was thirsty." House swung the refrigerator door closed and looked to her. "Your fridge is going through a famine."

"I'm going to the store tomorrow after work," Cuddy told him defiantly.

"What are you having for dinner?" House asked, eyebrows raised. "A celery and cucumber salad?"

"I'm—" She thought quickly. "Going out."

"With who?" House questioned.

"A friend," she answered simply.

"A friend who?" he prompted further.

Cuddy frowned. "What's with the third degree, House?"

He shrugged. "Bored."

"Well, be bored somewhere else."

Cuddy took House by the arm and quickly ushered him to the front door. She managed to get him outside before slamming the door in his face and locking it.

Letting out a sigh, Cuddy paused at her front door, knowing that he was still standing on the other side. She wanted to open the door, she wanted to let him back in. But, she couldn't let herself do so. Instead, she headed for her bathroom to take a shower.

* * *

Her body was heavy the next morning and House thought she might be dead. At quarter to eleven in the morning, he was on her doorstep because she didn't show up to work and she didn't call.

House used her hidden key to let himself in. He examined the quiet house upon entry before heading to her bedroom. His eyes fell to her in bed, one of her arms thrown haphazardly above her head. Her eyes were closed, but she was breathing.

"Cuddy." House approached the bed carefully.

She didn't open her eyes and she didn't move. There was a pause on her part before she finally spoke in a very soft voice.

"What?"

"Get up." House tapped the arm above her head. "Come on."

"I'm sick," she lied. "I have the flu."

"You didn't call," he said.

"I forgot," Cuddy replied and finally opened her eyes to look at him. "How did you get in?"

"Hidden key," House answered.

Cuddy shut her eyes. "Put it back on your way out."

"You don't have the flu," House told her.

"Why are you trying to ruin my life?" Cuddy groaned.

"Why are you?"

House waited for an answer, but she didn't give him one. He wrapped his hand around her small forearm and gave a tug.

"Can you get up?" he asked.

He let go of her arm and it fell back down to where it had previously been. She didn't flinch or show any outward indication of the movement.

"Don't want to," she replied.

"But, _can_ you?"

Cuddy groaned in response because it was much easier than admitting the truth. House understood the groan and left her bedroom.

He made his way into her kitchen and opened the door to the refrigerator. House let out a sigh, noting that she hadn't touched anything from the day before. He reached down to the drawer and pulled out the orange.

House limped over to the counter and grabbed a few paper towels. He peeled the orange and pulled it apart into sections. After rinsing his hands, he placed the orange in a paper towel and took it into the bedroom for her.

"Eat this," he said. "For your flu."

Cuddy opened her eyes for a second time and stared at the food in his hand. Her arm felt like a ten pound weight, but she managed to lift it and take a piece of the fruit. She shoved the wedge into her mouth and bit into it, the acidic juice moistening her mouth. She swallowed quickly, nearly choking.

House set his cane aside and placed the orange on the night stand. He took hold of her arm and pulled her up, not wanting her to choke. She felt like dead weight and that left him feeling scared, yet curious. He still wasn't quite sure how this happened.

Using both hands now, he helped her to remain sitting upright. Cuddy refused to make eye contact. She was so embarrassed by the present situation that it was starting to make _him_ feel embarrassed. House sat down beside her and picked the orange back up.

"We going to talk about this?" he asked and extended another wedge.

"No."

Cuddy took the piece and shoved it into her mouth. She squished the juice from it with her teeth, but let the rest of the fruit remain in her mouth.

"Cuddy."

"No." She swallowed hard. "I'm fine. I was feeling sick before. I'm all right now."

She pushed her covers off and attempted to climb from bed, but House held her back. She figured that was a good thing, though, because her body still felt like heavy rubber and she was uncertain if she could stand on her own.

"You need to eat this."

House took her hand and placed another section of orange in it. She put the piece in her mouth as she thought over the previous days.

Cuddy decided that this wasn't all that bad. She did need something to eat, she knew, and an orange wasn't a bad choice. Besides, her senses seemed heightened, which made the fruit taste even better.

"Finish this." House gave her the paper towel with the rest of the orange it. "I'm calling in work for you."

He stood from the bed, but Cuddy grabbed his arm with her free hand. She shook her head.

"No. I'm going in. I need to go in."

House pulled his arm from her grasp and stared down at her. "You need to eat."

"I am," Cuddy told him. "I do. I just felt sick. Stomach thing. I have to go in."

He frowned. "Cuddy—"

"I'm going in, House," she cut him off quickly. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," he replied. "You don't eat."

"I'm eating right now," Cuddy said and bit into another section of orange.

House narrowed his eyes at her. "You know what I mean."

"No, what do you mean?" she challenged him.

He held her eye contact before shaking his head. House picked up his cane and then made eye contact with her again. Cuddy continued to eat her orange.

"I'll leave you to it, then." He began for the doorway. "See you at work."

Cuddy watched as he limped out of the room. She remained in bed, suddenly not caring that House even bothered to show up at her home. She finished off the orange and wiped her mouth with the paper towel.

She was feeling much better now, much more alert. Cuddy scooted to the end of the bed and stood. Her head buzzed for only a moment before clearing. She drew in a deep breath and began to get ready for work.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, guys. Thanks so much for the comments! Sorry it took me a while to get this out. School's been busy. Hopefully there won't be too long of a wait until the next one.**

**

* * *

**

Wilson opened his office door and let House in. House limped his way over to the couch and sat down as Wilson closed the door. Clearing his throat, House leaned back into the couch cushions, awaiting the response from Wilson that House already knew he was going to give him.

After seeing Cuddy in the morning, appearing paler and even thinner as her clothes hung off of her body, House advised Wilson to check into it and give feedback.

"You're right." Wilson told House. "You were right."

"If only you believed me before," House replied, glad Wilson had finally come around. "We could have put a stop to this before it got this bad."

"But, she hid it well." Wilson frowned as he walked over to the chair behind his desk. "And besides, I never thought this would happen to _her_."

"Well, it did," House shrugged.

"How long are we going to let it go on?" Wilson asked, hoping House had some direction.

"There's nothing we can do," he said. "She doesn't want help."

"She needs it," Wilson insisted.

House shrugged again. "She won't take it if she feels she doesn't need it."

"But, she's killing herself, House!" Wilson exclaimed, a look of fear mixed with concern on his face.

"So?" House bluntly responded with a raise of his eyebrows.

"You're telling me that you don't care," Wilson concluded, not really believing the statement, but he was trying to evoke some sort of solution to the problem from House.

"Why should I?" House asked him. "She obviously doesn't care about herself."

"You went to her house last week when she didn't show up to work," Wilson said. "You kept trying to convince me of what was going on with her. _You_ obviously care."

House drew in a breath as he stood to his feet.

"Can't help the unwilling."

With that, House headed for the door and left Wilson's office. He had a patient and he figured he might as well get to work instead of worrying over Cuddy considering his patient was paying and actually wanted help.

* * *

She wasn't focused at all. Her hands were freezing and her mind was buzzing a slow drone that she couldn't block out. If she wasn't enveloped by the white noise in her head, she was thinking about the twisting in her stomach. She wanted to eat.

"Dr. Cuddy?"

Looking to the source of the voice, Cuddy realized she hadn't been paying any attention to the meeting for at least ten minutes. Her work was suffering severely. She cleared her throat.

"Uh, I'm sorry, but I seem to have..." she trailed off. She was drowning in her mind. "I, um..."

"Are you all right, Dr. Cuddy?" Dr. Rosenbloom asked her before giving a glance to the other two doctors in the room.

Cuddy hesitated a moment before shaking her head. "No, actually, I'm feeling a bit sick. Do you mind if we arrange this for another time? Next week?"

"Yeah, sure." Dr. Hartzel nodded enthusiastically, his concern obvious. "Do you want me to get you some water or something?"

"No, no..." She drew in a sharp breath. "I'm fine, thanks."

Dr. Brent looked up from his palm pilot. "Is next Thursday okay for the meeting, then? About the same time?"

"Yeah, I'm sure it will be," Cuddy answered. "I'll move my schedule around to make it work."

Cuddy pushed her chair back and stood to her feet. She moved around her chair as soft black circles suddenly clouded her vision until she could see nothing else.

The voices in the room faded and the next thing she knew she was staring up at the ceiling with Dr. Hartzel and Dr. Rosenbloom hovering around her.

"Dr. Cuddy?" Dr. Hartzel was shaking her gently. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," she said. "I'm fine."

With the help of Dr. Hartzel, she sat up as her senses came back to her. Dr. Brent handed a glass of water to her. She thanked him and took a long drink from it, cursing herself out in her mind for being so stupid and not heeding the warning signs she had been experiencing all morning that told her this might happen.

Cuddy handed the glass back to Dr. Brent before forcing herself to her feet. Dr. Hartzel quickly held onto her arm.

"Maybe you should sit a while longer," he suggested.

"No." Cuddy shook her head. "I skipped breakfast this morning. It's nothing. Really. Thank you."

She felt a flush crawling up into her pale cheeks. She picked up her folder from the conference table.

"Next Thursday it is, then," she muttered.

"Dr. Cuddy, why don't we head down to cafeteria?" Dr. Hartzel asked. "It's about lunch time and if you need to eat, maybe we could finish up the meeting there."

Cuddy frowned. "I really don't have time—"

"But, you need to eat," Dr. Hartzel replied. "It's on me."

In that moment, she wondered if they all knew. She figured they must have suspicions and refusing the offer only meant confirming their suspicions. As much as Cuddy didn't want to go, she figured she might as well. If word got out that she passed out and then refused to eat, it would only hasten rumors she figured were already being spread.

"Fine," she gave in and headed for the door.

* * *

Wilson gave a gentle tap on House's office door before entering. House looked up from the medical chart on his desk.

"I need to talk to you," Wilson said.

"Little busy," he replied and placed his attention back on the chart in front of him.

"Cuddy passed out today," Wilson informed him.

House picked his head back up quickly, but he held back any concern in his voice. "When?"

"During a meeting about an hour ago," Wilson answered.

"And?" House prompted and looked back at the chart.

"And she passed out." Wilson crossed toward House's desk. "Because she's not eating. You care one day and don't the next. What gives, House? We have to help her."

House let out a sigh and brought his eyes back up to Wilson. "I told you already. We can only help if she wants help. And she doesn't. Problem solved."

"Not solved, ignored," Wilson corrected. "We can't ignore this."

"So, how do you suppose anyone can fix this if she doesn't want help?" House asked him.

Wilson frowned. "I don't know, but we have to do _something_."

"There's nothing we can do," House told him.

"I won't give up on her," Wilson replied, trying to keep his anger at bay since House was clearly giving up entirely. "Not yet."

Wilson turned and stormed out of House's office. House let out another sigh. He couldn't get back to work now. Not after what Wilson had just told him. House picked up his cane and stood to his feet before heading from his office.

* * *

Cuddy removed her fingers from her mouth just as she threw up spaghetti into the toilet in her personal bathroom. She felt an instant burning in her nose and blew it hard in the direction of the toilet, watching as a piece of onion projected itself, causing the burning to subside.

She drew in a few breaths and stared at the contents in the toilet. It wasn't enough. She shoved her fingers back into her mouth until she threw up again. She hated doing this and she wouldn't have had to if she wasn't forced to eat by the three men in the meeting with her.

After she started the eating machine, she found she couldn't stop it until she was incredibly full. She had control, she knew that, but when she lost that control in a moment of weakness, that's when all hell would break lose.

Cuddy coughed and sputtered into the toilet before sucking in a deep breath. She jumped when her bathroom door banged open. She caught a glimpse of House before she diverted her eyes back to the toilet bowl, a numerous amount of lies running through her mind of which to tell him.

"I thought you said you didn't do that," House spoke, remaining in the doorway.

"I thought I locked the door," she replied as she flushed the toilet, keeping her vomit covered hand hidden from his view.

He shrugged. "You did."

She forced herself to her feet, her head throbbing, but her stomach feeling lighter. Cuddy walked toward the sink on two unsteady feet.

"My lunch didn't agree with me," she told him.

Still not making eye contact, Cuddy turned on the water and rinsed her hands quickly before washing her mouth out. House watched her, a heaviness coming over him as he realized she was truly destroying herself.

"You've got to stop this," he said.

"Stop what?" Cuddy asked, finally looking to him, her eyebrows raised, her eyes blank, her face dripping with water.

House locked eyes with her. "You know what."

She held his eyes contact. "No, I don't."

"You're making yourself _throw up_," he accused.

"It's a _stomach bug_," she insisted and grabbed a few paper towels to wipe her face with.

"You're killing yourself," he replied.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Cuddy shrugged innocently as she threw the paper towels away.

"You passed out today."

"Yeah?" Cuddy planted a hand to her hip. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Wilson," House answered.

"Well, he was misinformed because I didn't," she hotly told him.

"Why are you lying to me?" House asked her.

"I'm not."

"You are."

Cuddy looked away then because she couldn't stand to look into the eyes that could see right through her. She headed toward the doorway.

"I have work to do," she mumbled as she squeezed past him into her office.

House turned in the doorway and watched as she made her way over to her desk.

"I just don't understand why you're doing this to yourself," he said harshly, wanting her to tell him the truth already.

Cuddy slammed her palms down onto the top of her desk. She glared at House.

"God, House, can you drop it? I'm not doing anything, now get the hell out!"

"No," he replied and limped toward her. "Not until you give me an honest answer."

"I am!" she insisted.

"You are not, Cuddy, and we both know you're not," he told her.

"Get out of my damn office, House," Cuddy commanded, eyes locked with his. "Now."

"No."

With an angry sigh, Cuddy headed for her office door in order to open it and start the process of getting House out. She hoped screaming at him with the door open would get him to eventually give in and go. Halfway there, however, she slowed her pace as her heart gave a flutter before everything went dark.

House watched Cuddy collapse to the floor and he stared at her for a few seconds before limping as fast as possible to her. He knelt beside her, ignoring the burn in his right thigh.

"Cuddy."

He shook her gently before placing two gentle fingers against her neck. Nothing. He looked to her chest. She wasn't breathing.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered.

House forced himself up and limped toward the door. He pulled it open and looked out at the Clinic.

"Help!" he yelled, getting the attention of a nurse and a few bystanders. "I need a crash cart in here. Now!"

House left the door open as he headed back over to Cuddy. He knelt beside her again as he tilted her head back. He put his ear at her parted lips, determining if she was now breathing. She wasn't.

He pinched her nostrils together as his lips went to hers. He breathed out into her and pulled back before doing it once more. House shifted his weight as he began chest compressions. He looked to her face. She looked even paler than before.

House bent back over her and pinched her nose again. He administered a breath into her as Nurse Previn entered into the office with the crash cart.

"What happened?" she asked, staring down at her unconscious superior.

"Get the defibrillator," House commanded, ignoring the question.

As Nurse Previn followed his order, House unbuttoned Cuddy's long sleeved shirt. Once he finished and pulled the fabric away from her skin, he stared at the ribs pressed against her taut skin.

"Dr. House?"

House snapped to attention as he looked up to Nurse Previn and took the paddles, already coated with gel, from her. She quickly bent over Cuddy and removed the necklace from her as House placed the paddles in their proper position.

"Clear," House said as Nurse Previn stepped back while he shocked Cuddy's heart.

Her body convulsed before resting back down. House felt for a pulse. Still nothing.

"We have to shock her again."

House readjusted the paddles, giving Nurse Previn enough time to deal with the machine before he continued. When he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that she stopped her movement, he shocked Cuddy's heart for a second time.

Once her body was still again after the second shock, Cuddy drew in a sharp breath. House let out a sigh of relief and felt her pulse. It was a little thready, but it was there. He looked to Nurse Previn.

"We need to get her out of here."

Nurse Previn nodded and hurried out of the office. House brought his eyes back down to Cuddy. He felt sick, wondering if he hadn't bother to come to her office, if she would have died right then and there.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the long wait. I am lame. And so is fanfiction for being a tool last night when I tried to post and it wouldn't let me login. However, I am posting now and thanks for all the wonderful responses on the last chapter.**

**

* * *

**

Cuddy opened her eyes slowly. She felt sick, weak, and she wasn't quite sure as to how she got into a hospital bed. She reached across herself to her left hand, where an IV was taped to the top of her hand.

"Don't pull that out."

The voice startled her and she looked to her right. House was sitting near the wall, his eyes on her. The blinds to her hospital room were pulled shut behind him.

"They're giving you fluids," he told her.

She let her hands drop to her bed. Cuddy closed her eyes for a long moment as she took in a breath. She opened her eyes back up and directed them to House.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Your heart stopped beating," he answered. "You stopped breathing."

Cuddy swallowed hard. "Oh."

"You could have died," House said.

"I didn't," she replied.

"Because I was there," House pointed out.

Cuddy didn't respond. She turned her head and looked toward the windows, where the blinds were also drawn shut. She wasn't sure what to think or feel. She could have been dead this very moment.

"Did you know you're under a hundred pounds?" House spoke up.

"Yes," she whispered in response, still keeping her head turned away from him.

"You know that means you're underweight, right?" House continued.

She bit her bottom lip, hesitating. "Yes."

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked her, his voice hardening.

Cuddy immediately went on the defensive as she looked back over at him. "Isn't this what you wanted, House?"

House stood from the chair and approached the bed. "For you to be the skeletal remains of a woman who used to be smart and on top of things? Yeah, you're right." He nodded. "That's exactly what I wanted."

"Get out of my room," she commanded, glaring at him.

"Not until you tell me why," House responded. "Why all of this?"

"You know why," she spat, still glaring. "My fat ass, as you liked to tell me."

House's shoulders drooped slightly as he sighed, almost expecting the answer. "I've said that for years. This isn't just about your weight."

"Go away!" Cuddy turned her back to him.

"No." House placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling her collarbone as well as he pulled her onto her back. "I need to know why you're fucking up your life."

"And then what, House?" Cuddy said. "What the hell do expect to gain from this? You don't care."

"That's right, Cuddy," House agreed bitterly as he took a few steps away from her bed. "I don't care. I don't give two shits about you. You definitely see right fucking through me."

Cuddy reached for her IV, not wanting to stay around him anymore. If he wasn't going to leave, she was. She pulled the taped on needle from her hand harshly, knowing it would bruise. House frowned.

"Put that back in," he told her.

She ignored him as she pulled her covers off, extending her thin legs over the side of the bed that House was not standing by. His hand went to her shoulder again.

"Get off." Cuddy shrugged him off.

"No." House took a firmer grasp on her, hurting her. "You want your heart to stop again? Get back in bed."

Cuddy glanced back at him over her shoulder, teeth gritted. "Let me go, House."

"All right." He gave a nod. "If you want to kill yourself, I'm not going to stop you. And I certainly won't fucking save your life next time either. If you don't care, I don't care. Die. That's perfectly fine, Cuddy."

House backed off, expecting her to storm out, but she remained sitting on the bed, her back to him. She brought her legs that felt too heavy back up into bed and relaxed back down, her back still toward House. He heard her sniffle.

Limping slowly, House made his way around the hospital bed. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears as she stared blankly ahead. Carefully, House pulled her left hand closer to him and, as gently as he could, placed the IV into the back of her hand.

Her face held no other sign of emotion except for her wet eyes as she felt the pain of House returning the needle into her hand. She blinked, causing tears to fall from her eyes.

House took a step back and made his way around to the other side of the bed. He picked up his cane and walked out of the room.

* * *

Wilson entered into House's office. House was sitting at his desk, lost in his thoughts as he stared at his floor. He lifted his gaze as Wilson approached his desk.

"How is she?" Wilson said

House ran his tongue over the back of his bottom teeth before making eye contact with Wilson.

"Okay."

"What happens now?" Wilson asked. "What are we going to do? She needs help."

"Yeah," House humored him after only hearing half of Wilson's words.

"I can talk to someone," Wilson told him. "I have a friend who's a psychologist. She can come here and talk to her."

House leaned back in his chair. "I don't think that'll help. Cuddy doesn't seem very inclined to talk."

"To _you_," Wilson replied. "But, maybe she'll talk to someone else about it. Maybe she'll want to get help."

"Try whatever you like." House lifted a surrendering hand. "I doubt it will work, but yeah, sure, go ahead."

Wilson frowned at him, not appreciating House's unsupportive reactions. "Since when did you become the expert on Cuddy?"

"Well, it's not like you were there for her," House pointed out. "I was there."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Wilson merely stared at his friend. "I'm as much into this as you are. But, yeah, I can see why you feel you're closer to it. This is your fault."

House eyed him up, cocking a half smile to hide any other emotion. "Why do you say that?"

"Because it's _you_ who always makes fun her, dragging her down," Wilson accused. "I don't know how many times in any given week you'll make comments to her about her weight as well as insulting her intelligence. You always go too far with things like this. Look what it's driven her to."

"Right," House agreed as he stood from his chair. "This is all my fault. Easy answer for everything."

"It is your fault," Wilson said.

"It's not about food." House picked up his cane and locked his eyes with Wilson. "It's not about her weight. Well, it is, but it isn't. There's more to this."

"And I wouldn't be surprised if that was your fault, too," Wilson responded.

House shook his head as he moved around his desk. He headed for his office door, Wilson watching him. Wilson crossed his arms over his chest.

"You know I'm right."

"I know you're an idiot," House called over his shoulder.

"You could have killed her," Wilson told him.

House stopped and faced Wilson. "I'm not the one killing her, she's killing her. I didn't do anything except save her damn life. I'm sick of the Wilson parade riding in on a white horse of morality. You can fuck off."

With that, House turned back around and stormed out. Wilson clenched his hands into his fists and drew in a deep breath to keep his anger at bay.

* * *

Cuddy stirred and opened her eyes. She looked to her right to see Wilson sitting beside her bed. She gave him a weak smile.

"Hey," Wilson greeted her softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," she answered.

"I talked to my friend, Brianna, that I told you could help you," Wilson told her. "The psychologist. She said she'd talk with you."

"No." Cuddy shook her head slightly. "Really. No, thanks."

"I think it could help if you talked to someone about this," Wilson said, placing his hand on top of hers.

"Please, James, don't do this." Cuddy pulled her hand from his. "Not now. I just need some time to get my thoughts together and figure some things out."

"She can help you do that," Wilson insisted.

"I appreciate it, but I just can't now," Cuddy replied.

Wilson sighed slightly, deciding to switch to a new tactic in order to get Cuddy to agree to get the help she needed.

"I checked with the nurses. You're still not eating much."

Cuddy locked eyes with him. "I _really_ don't want to talk about this, James."

"Sorry," he apologized, deciding it was probably best to drop it for now.

"Have you seen House?" She changed the topic. "He hasn't been in to see me since the first day I was in here."

"I haven't talked to him much," Wilson responded, his tone hardening slightly.

She eyed him up. "Are you fighting?"

"It's not a big deal," Wilson avoided answering the question. "I can tell him you want to see him."

"No," she said. "It's fine. They're just keeping me here for a while still and I don't want many people visiting me. Not that I particularly want House to, but he usually barges in anyway if wants... but, I guess he doesn't want to see me. But, that's okay. I don't want to see him either."

Wilson saw right through her, but he went along with her anyway. "Right."

"Are people talking?" Cuddy asked him, almost shyly.

"Well..." He looked down.

"James."

Wilson nodded slightly. "Yeah."

She drew in a breath. "Pretty terrible things, huh?"

"No," he answered. "Mostly, they're just concerned." Wilson paused a moment before adding, "Lisa, it kills me to see you like this."

"Well, I'm sorry," she replied sarcastically, quickly jumping on the defense. She found she was very defensive lately. "I'm sorry it's inconvenient for you."

"It's not inconvenient," Wilson tried to clarify. "It just... makes me sad."

"Sorry," she retorted.

"No, it's not—" Wilson shook his head. "Never mind. Just know I'm concerned. I care about you."

"Yeah." Cuddy gave a short nod. "Thanks."

"I'll visit later," he told her.

"Sure," she replied.

Wilson stood from the chair and left the room. Once he was out of the room, Cuddy rested back against her pillows, feeling the tension leave the room when Wilson did. She was glad to be alone. She hated when anyone visited her. She hated that they had to see what she had become.

This whole thing began with her wanting to have control, to feel better about herself, to become something else. She wanted to be someone who could be everything and not feel like she was missing any major aspects of her life.

However, this lifestyle she had created, the lifestyle she had developed and let envelope her, was destroying her. But, no matter how hard she tried to think about ways to 'get better,' she knew it was unreasonable. She felt she could not get better, not completely, which ultimately left her feeling hopeless.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, everyone! Thank you for the great reviews! Just wanted to apologize for the lack of update. I've been having a bit of trouble with this fic. Hope you enjoy this chapter, though.**

**

* * *

  
**

He was there when she awoke. It took her a moment to realize she wasn't alone, but her eyes fell on him sitting in a chair near her bed. He was staring at her, but his mind was elsewhere. Upon her movement, however, his eyes locked with hers.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

House gave a shrug. "Figured you might be leaving soon."

"Not soon enough," Cuddy commented and held back a sigh.

"Why don't you sign yourself out?"

"I would if my doctor wasn't so adamant about me staying," she replied. "He said it's a serious health risk to leave in my current state."

House leaned against the back of his chair, eyeing her up. "They're going to send you away soon."

She frowned at him in return. "They would not."

"If you're not putting on the weight to stop being a health risk, they will," he told her.

Cuddy sat up straighter in her bed. "No, they won't."

"Wilson's pushing it," he added.

"He is not," she immediately responded, thinking he was trying to get a rise out of her.

"Well, he wants you to get better," House pointed out to her as he tapped his cane against the floor.

She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head slightly. "He can't force me to go."

"He can," House said, locking eyes with her.

"You have to stop him." Her eyes remained locked with his. "I don't want to go to some treatment center."

"You're the only one who can stop him," he replied, not offering any sort of help. "Eat something, put the weight on."

"I..." Cuddy looked away from him.

"What?" he prompted, his eyes still not leaving her.

"I can't." She unfolded her arms and let them fall at her sides as she still kept her eyes downcast.

"Why can't you?" House asked, wondering if she was going to offer up some truth.

"I don't want to get into this," she snapped and shot him a glare.

"You have to get into it with someone," he told her.

"No. I don't."

Cuddy shifted in the hospital bed and turned her back toward him. She didn't want to talk about it and she didn't want to argue with him. House stared at her spine and ribs that were pressed against her taut, pale skin.

"How the hell did it get this bad?" His voice came off a bit louder, demanding an answer since he wasn't quite sure himself on how it escalated to this.

"Go away," Cuddy muttered over her shoulder and shut her eyes, hoping it would help to block him out even more.

"You never needed to diet in the first place," he said.

A flash of anger crossed over her face as she turned onto her back. She sat up and ignored the slight lightheadedness. She placed her eyes on him.

"Oh yeah?" She raised her eyebrows. "I thought my ass was huge."

He frowned. "I've been saying that forever, Cuddy. What made you actually think I was serious?"

Cuddy shook her head, unsure how to voice a response without letting too much emotion show. She really didn't want to get into this with anyone, especially not with him.

"You're killing yourself." His eyes were locked with hers again.

"Go away, House," her tone switched to being somewhat defeated and she turned her back to him once more.

House knew he wouldn't get any further with her. He stood from the chair and headed out of her hospital room.

Now that she was alone, Cuddy began to think about what House had said to her. She figured that if she seemed to be getting better, she might be able to talk her way out of the hospital. If she began to clean her plate, she might get out without being forced into treatment she didn't want.

It was embarrassing to admit she had this problem. Going to treatment meant admitting that she was out of control when the only thing she wanted was to be in control. If she could bring her hospital stay into her own terms, she could find a way out and then slip back into her old habits once she was away from watchful eyes.

* * *

Cuddy placed a smile on her face as she watched Dr. Felio enter her hospital room. He gave her a smile as he approached her hospital bed.

"Hello, Lisa," he greeted. "How are you doing today?"

"Fine," she answered.

"I checked with the nurses," he began. "You're up two pounds."

"I am," she agreed, knowing she was up precisely two point seven pounds.

Dr. Felio gave a small nod. "And how do you feel about that?"

"Fine," Cuddy replied, making sure to keep her tone on the bright side.

"And you've been speaking with the nutritionist, Charlene, right?" Dr. Felio asked.

"Right." Cuddy nodded. "We've made meal plans for when I go home."

"I still recommend you see a therapist," he added.

"I'm going to," she told him. "I've already made an appointment. And I'm taking a little time off of work."

"Then, I don't see why we need to keep you here any longer." Dr. Felio informed her as he made a note on her chart. "If you're ready to go, I see no problem with it."

"Thank you."

Dr. Felio paused a moment and then gave her a small smile. "I hope you get better, Lisa."

She placed a tight smile on her face. "Me, too."

* * *

Wilson pressed open the glass door to House's office. He stepped inside and let the door close behind himself. House was sitting at his desk, two open charts in front of him.

"Can I talk to you?" Wilson asked.

House sighed. "What?"

"It's about—"

"Cuddy, I know," House instantly cut him off. "It's always about Cuddy. What now?"

"She isn't any better, House," Wilson told him.

"And what?" House replied, annoyed. "I know that. You know that. She knows that. What do you expect to do?"

"I'm worried, all right?" Wilson said, eyebrows drawn in clear concern. "I'm worried and I was hoping I could talk to you about this because you know as much as I do, but if you're going to be like this, I'm just—"

"What's there to talk about?" House cut him off again. "You're worried. That's all. We can't make some master plan to fix her. She doesn't want to be fixed. What will talking to me help? What does it matter if we talk about it?"

"Fine."

With that, Wilson turned and went back to the door. House stood from his chair just as Wilson was pulling open the door.

"Hey," House called out to him. "Wanna go for a drink or something tonight? Seven?"

Wilson stopped and turned around.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Sure."

House gave a nod in return and then sat back down. Wilson turned back around and headed out of the office.

* * *

Cuddy was awake when she heard someone fumbling around on her front porch. She was in bed, too drained to move as she felt like dead weight. She wondered if it would have been better to have died when her heart had stopped.

Her eyes closed as the front door opened. If she didn't hear the sound of the rubber end of a cane hitting her hardwood floor in the next few seconds, she would be scrambling to call nine one one despite her exhaustion.

There was a soft thud and she eased. He was moving down her hallway, but his steps sounded different. They were slower, perhaps clumsier. She opened her eyes as he appeared in her doorway.

"Get out of my house," Cuddy told him.

"Sleeping already?" House asked, his words slurring a touch. "Wilson says you won't let him in. He thinks you haven't been out of your house in days. No nutritionist, no therapist. But, we both know that's not true. You at least went to the gym, right?"

Cuddy stared at him a moment. "Are you drunk?"

"Get up," House commanded as he limped to her bedside.

She frowned. "What?"

"Get up." He grabbed her arm and gave a tug. "Come on. Use that inner strength and sit up."

"You're drunk," she replied and pulled her arm away from him.

"And you're anorexic," he spat back.

"Fuck off, House."

He smirked and moved around her bed. She forced herself to sit up, her head pounding. House seated himself on the other side of her bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

House gave a shrug. "Thought I'd stay a while."

"No." She shook her head. "Get out."

"We need to talk," he told her.

"We don't need to talk," she responded, glaring at him. "Not when you're drunk. Now, will you leave? I'm trying to sleep."

"Not until you tell me the truth," he said. "You need to stop this, Cuddy."

"Well, I can't stop."

"You can."

Cuddy moved off of her bed and walked away from him. Her pajama pants were baggy and falling off, despite being tied, and her sweatshirt hung off her body. She stopped once she was a few feet from the bed and faced him.

"House, it's like your Vicodin," she explained. "It's an addiction. If you stop, you go through withdrawal. If I stop, I gain weight."

"You need to gain weight," he pointed out.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "So my ass gets bigger? No."

"You don't have an ass," he replied.

"Look." Cuddy pinched her upper arm, pulling skin away from her bone. "See that?"

"Your skin."

"It's fat."

She was growing angrier by the second, wanting him to get out and leave her alone. She wanted him to understand, yet she also wanted him to go away and never bother to come back.

It made House sick to see her standing there and saying these things. He felt sick that she was seeing herself this way, believing in ideas that weren't true. He felt sick because she _was_ sick and he wasn't sure if she could be cured.

"It isn't fat," he told her. "You can't get rid of your skin, Cuddy. Not unless you die."

Cuddy let out an aggravated sigh and released her skin. She shook her head as she made her way around her bed.

"I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Your head is messed up," he said.

She stopped on the other side of the bed, her hands planted to her bony hips. "And your thigh is messed up. Even?"

"My thigh isn't literally killing me," he replied.

"Neither is my head," she returned.

He locked eyes with her. "But, your eating disorder is."

She paused for only a brief moment. "I want you out of my house."

Cuddy entered into her bathroom and shut the door. She drew in a breath as she lowered herself to the floor. She clutched her knees to her chest, feeling a pain in her empty stomach. She listened hard, waiting until she heard House leave before going back into her bedroom and trying to fall asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey, guys! Thanks for all the comments! Sorry I haven't been able to respond to them all, but I'm trying my best to keep up with fic, school, and life. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a bit longer than the past ones have been.**

**

* * *

**

She awoke on the bathroom floor. She was cold and her body ached. She felt stiff and tired as she sat up. It took her a minute to remember why she was in the bathroom and she realized she never heard House leave.

Cuddy forced herself to her feet, her hand on her stomach. She slowly opened the bathroom door and peeked into the bedroom. It was empty.

She left the bathroom and heard the clatter of dishes in her kitchen. Frowning, Cuddy made her way around her bed and out of her bedroom. She walked quickly to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, arms folded over her chest.

House was at the stove, his back to her. She could smell food and it made her mouth water.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes burning his backside.

"Making breakfast," he answered without looking back at her.

"I'm not hungry," Cuddy replied lightly, the statement giving her a sick sense of pride.

He faced her, making eye contact. "It's not for you."

She closed her mouth into a tight line and House turned back to the food cooking on the stove. Cuddy took a step into the kitchen, wanting a better look.

"What are you making?"

"Pancakes," he said.

She frowned in return. "I don't have anything you can make pancakes with."

"Brought it with me," he told her.

House used a spatula to place three pancakes on a plate. He turned off her stove and picked up the plate that had a total of six pancakes on it.

"You don't have syrup," she pointed out in a deadpan.

"No," he agreed.

Cuddy stepped out of his way as he moved into her dining room. He set the plate down and went back into the kitchen to retrieve a fork. Cuddy stared at the pancakes, her stomach grumbling.

"Sure you don't want any?" He eyed her up as he limped back to the table.

"No," Cuddy answered bitterly.

She moved into the kitchen and began to make coffee as he sat at her dining room table, eating.

"These would be better with syrup," House commented, his mouth full.

"Probably." She faced him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" He gave a glance in her direction. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and turned back to the coffee maker. Her stomach was grumbling and she let her eyes wander over to the skillet on the stove. It was was slightly coated with leftover butter and had a few flecks of pancake still in it.

Drawing in a deep breath, she placed her attention back on the coffee maker. She watched the dark liquid dribble into the coffee pot. She put her hands on either side of the machine and stared it down, knowing that if she placed her focus on something else, and really focused on it, her thoughts of hunger would subside. At least, for a short amount of time.

"You wouldn't mind if I kept my pancake mix here, would you?" House asked and shoved another piece of dry pancake into his mouth.

She shot a glare in his direction. "Why would you keep it here?"

"In case I want more pancakes," he answered.

"No," she told him.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," he said to her and cut into a pancake with his fork.

Cuddy frowned at him and placed her hands on her hips. "I want you to leave."

"Actually, I was thinking I'd stay for a little while," House informed her, pancake dangling from his fork.

She merely stared in return. "What?"

"I want to see what you do," he explained himself.

"What do you mean?" Cuddy asked cautiously.

"I want to watch you destroy yourself," House added and put his forkful into his mouth.

"You're sick," she accused bitterly, glaring once again.

"_You're_ sick," he corrected smugly, mouth full. "I want to see what you do, how you do it."

"No."

Cuddy shook her head and turned back to her coffee pot. It was almost done brewing. She drew in a breath, taking in the scent of the liquid that would help get her through her day.

"Why not?" House went on. "You scared? I already know the truth, Cuddy. You won't be revealing anything new."

She clenched her teeth together, thinking. After a short moment, she gave a small nod, her back still to him.

"Fine."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?"

Cuddy made her way to the cabinet to retrieve her mug.

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

* * *

House sat on the top step of the staircase leading down into her basement. Cuddy was running up and down them quickly. He was watching her feet, hoping she wouldn't accidentally trip and fall.

"You do this how many times?" he asked and held his breath a moment as her foot came dangerously close to latching itself on the underside of the step above it.

"Two hours," she answered him crisply.

He lifted his eyes to her face. "But, how many times is that?"

"Don't know," she responded.

"You ever fall?" His eyes went back to her feet.

"Would you shut up?" Cuddy's annoyance came through her tone. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"What is there to concentrate on?" House went on the defense. "You're going up and down."

"Shut up, House," she hastily told him.

House drew in a breath. "God, this is boring."

"I didn't ask you to stay, did I?" Cuddy replied, looking up at him as she went up the stairs.

"No," he gave in and answered honestly.

"Exactly," she called over her shoulder as she headed back down.

"You might want to slow down," House commented.

"House." She shot him glare as she reached the basement and turned to head back up.

"I don't want your heart to stop," he said in return. "I'd be expected to save you and I'm really not up for it. I mean, why should I waste my talents on someone who's trying to kill herself?"

"I'm not trying to kill myself," she argued, starting to become out of breath as she kept up with her exercise and the conversation.

He shrugged. "That's what it looks like."

"I'm not," she insisted harshly.

"Then, what are you trying to do?" he asked.

"God, House, please shut up," Cuddy nearly begged as her eyes met his on her way up.

House gave a short nod and closed his mouth.

* * *

House stared at the plate she put her freshly cut tomato slices on. There were four total and they sat nicely on the two pieces of lettuce she had just cleaned.

"That's _all_ you're _eating_?" His gaze shifted to her as his eyebrows raised.

Cuddy shot him a glare. "Don't start."

"That tomato will be delicious," House went on. "And two pieces of lettuce? My God, Cuddy, you're overindulging."

"I will stab you with this knife." Cuddy threatened, knife in hand, before she tossed it into the sink.

House gave a nudge to the glass of water set beside the plate containing her lunch. She glared as she stepped back over to him.

"And that whole glass of cold water?" he added and shook his head. "Phew."

"Why are you here?" Cuddy demanded and planted a hand to her bony hip. "Why, House? You said you wanted to stay, to see, and I don't know why I even agreed, but I don't need you here mocking me, okay? So either stop or leave."

She took her plate and glass of water and sat down at the dining room table. She began to eat, slowly, methodically. Every bite was chewed thoroughly, a long drink of water following after. House remained in the kitchen, watching her backside as she ate.

Halfway through her meal, she drained her glass and stood to refill it. House picked up the Brita pitcher and met her halfway. He refilled her glass for her and she muttered a thanks to him before sitting back down at the table.

He set the pitcher back on the counter and resumed his former position of leaning against it. His eyes examined her, noting how her shoulders were lifted slightly in tension. He didn't know how to talk to her about this and get to the truth of the matter without mocking it, but he hoped he would figure it out soon because he was running out of time. A sigh lingered on his lips and he bit his tongue so it wouldn't escape.

* * *

After Cuddy had finished her lunch and washed her dishes, she made her way into the living room. She sat on the couch and turned on the television. The screen provided her with enough distraction to get through the next few hours without eating.

House remained in the doorway, eyeing up the television first before looking to her.

"So, this is what you do now?" he said.

"For a while," she replied.

"Until when?" he asked.

"Until I do my second work out," she answered.

He stepped closer to the couch. "And then?"

"Dinner."

"And after that?" he went on.

"I read, shower, and go to bed." Cuddy turned her head to look at him. "Think you need to stay around to watch all of that, too?"

"Come here." He signaled her with his hand to come closer.

She frowned. "Why?"

"I want to show you something," he told her.

"What?"

House began down the hallway and she stood from the couch, eyebrows drawn. She didn't know what his plan was, but she was sure she wasn't going to like it.

Cuddy entered her bedroom to see him standing at her closet, doors open. He was searching through her clothes, looking for something specific.

"What are you doing?" she demanded to know as she crossed over to the closet.

He pulled out a hanger, showing off one of her black dresses. Her eyes examined the dress for a moment, remembering how she once felt good in that dress. As she came back into reality, she lifted her eyes to House.

"Do you remember the holiday party this year?" he asked her, noticing the longing that had appeared on her face as she observed the dress.

"Do you?" Cuddy raised her eyebrows at him. "You were only there for five minutes as you made your way to the exit."

"And you were wearing this." He held the dress out to her.

Cuddy looked it over again, but refused to touch the soft fabric. "I was."

"And you looked good," House added.

"Wow, thanks," Cuddy replied sarcastically, frowning.

"I noticed how beautiful and healthy—"

"Fat, you mean," she cut in.

"No," House responded. "You were toned and glowing. Everyone else noticed that woman in the black dress, too. It hugged your body in all the right places. I'd know since I stared at your ass for two of the five minutes I was there."

She planted her hands to her hips, making eye contact. "So, what, House?"

"Put it on." He held the dress closer to her.

"What?" She shook her head. "No."

"Put it on," he insisted.

"Why?" she asked and took a step back, not enjoying the pressure he was putting on her.

"Just do it." House extended the dress further.

"I don't want to."

She turned and headed for the door. House grabbed her forearm with just enough strength to keep her, but not enough to hurt her. He turned her back toward him and locked eyes with her.

"Put the dress on."

Cuddy angrily yanked the dress from him and he released her arm. She went to the bathroom and the door closed with a bang behind her. After a few minutes, the door opened and House looked to the doorway expectantly.

Hesitantly, she stepped from the bathroom. The dress was too big and hung awkwardly on her body. She walked closer to House, but then stopped. Her eyes were on the floor, unsure if she should look to him.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It's too big," she stated the obvious.

"And?" House prompted her further.

She lifted her head. "And what? It doesn't fit."

"Does that bother you?" he said.

"No."

"Why not?"

Cuddy bit her bottom lip and shook her head again. "I lost the weight I wanted."

"But, Cuddy, you looked healthy and well and beautiful in that dress at the holiday party," House reenforced. "Now, you look sick and tired—"

"And ugly?" She lifted her eyebrows at him.

House frowned at her. "Not ugly. Sick. It takes away from your beauty."

"This is stupid." Cuddy folded her arms over her chest defensively. "I don't know what you're trying to prove."

"I'm trying to show you that you have lost too much weight, Cuddy." House took a limping step closer to her. "You've gone too far. You can't go any further without killing yourself. There was a woman who wore that dress perfectly and had confidence to match it."

"Yeah" she agreed sarcastically, her eyebrows flicking up. "Confidence."

"Where did it go?" House asked. "You're not Cuddy anymore. And I don't know how to help you."

He turned away from her and left the room. He suddenly couldn't do this, couldn't see her like this, the proof lying in the dress that didn't fit anymore. He headed for the front door.

"Help me?" Cuddy repeated, confused and annoyed, as she followed after him. "Since when do you help anybody, but yourself, House?"

He stopped near the front door and faced her. "I don't."

"Exactly," she agreed bitterly. "So, why are you trying to guilt me? Why are you trying to make me believe that you actually care? We know what it's all about when it comes to Gregory House. You want to know why, you want to figure me out and put me in your solved case files so you don't have to deal with me anymore. You don't want to help me, you want to help yourself. You want to understand so you can stop thinking about it. That's all you want."

"You're right," he said simply and walked out the door.

She stormed up behind him, watching him walk away, and slammed the door as hard as she could. The tears started immediately after and she knew she couldn't stop them. Her breathing became labored and she sunk to the floor as she sobbed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey, guys, thanks for all the awesome reviews! I do want to warn you that this chapter is particularly dark and may be a bit triggering.**

**

* * *

**

One, two, three, four, five. All blue. One, two, three, four, five. All blue. One, two, three, four, five. Two blue, three white. One, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five, one two three four five one two three four five onetwothreefourfiveonetwothreefourfive... all white. Nine neat piles of five. Forty five altogether and she was unsure if it would do the trick.

Cuddy paced. She was freezing. Her fingers were thin and cold, her feet had two pairs of socks on them, and her sweatpants and sweatshirt hung from her. She paced.

"You can end this," she muttered to herself. "Or pick up the phone. Or..."

She lightly touched a pile of dry tablets. She lined them up perfectly before backing away from her bathroom counter.

"It's not... This is not... This is not what I wanted."

A whine escaped her lips and she began pacing once more. She shook her head, shook her thoughts. She swallowed hard and stopped pacing. She glared at the tablets on the counter.

"Forty five," she said to herself. "Forty five, forty five."

Cuddy walked out her bathroom, leaving the light on behind her. She made her way around her bed and went out of the bedroom. The rest of the house was dark, but she didn't bother to turn the lights on as she went into the kitchen.

After retrieving a glass from the cabinet, she filled it with water and drank it as fast as she could manage. Once the glass was drained, she placed it in the sink, breathing heavily.

"It's not worth it." She shook her head again and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Just... just..."

Cuddy left the kitchen and went back into her bedroom. The bathroom light cast enough into the room for her to still see as she reached for the phone on the night stand. She began dialing, but hung up. She paused a moment, her hands shaking, before dialing again.

After two rings, the familiar voice answered.

"I can't call anyone," she told him. "I can't..."

"Lisa?" Wilson's concern was clear in his tone. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"No," she answered. "No, no."

"Do you need help?" he asked.

"No." It came out as a whine.

"Can I come over?" he replied. "Will you let me in?"

"Yeah," she responded.

"All right," Wilson agreed. "I'm leaving now. Want me to call on my cell phone?"

"God, no," she said.

"You'll be okay until I get there?"

"Yeah."

"I'll hurry," he assured her.

Cuddy hung up the phone and stood for a good minute before making her way back out of her bedroom. She went into the dining room and sat down at the table. The pills were on her mind and she pushed the thoughts away as she forced herself to think about something else.

Food. When was the last time she had eaten? Yesterday. She had lunch, but didn't eat again since House had left her. She thought about what she would eat if she so chose to now. However, she came up with nothing. The very thought of eating made her feel unstable.

With another whine escaping, Cuddy placed her face in her hands. She was going crazy, she had to be going crazy. Quickly, she stood up, her head spinning and her chair tipping over behind her. She stepped out into the hall and headed back to her bedroom.

Cuddy went around the bed and into the bathroom. The pills were on the counter still, each in their small groups. She went to them and began counting, making sure there truly were forty five. If she was going to take them, she wanted to be sure. Forty five. Thirty three white, twelve blue.

She stepped back from the counter and paced for a few seconds before sitting down on the toilet seat lid. She bit her bottom lip and stood back up.

"Stupid," she muttered. "This is stupid."

Cuddy went to the counter and picked up the empty prescription bottle. She began to place the white pills inside.

"You are so, so..."

She let out a cry of frustration and dropped the bottle fall into the sink. The pills fell from the orange bottle, scattering around the porcelain. She lost two down the drain. Shaking her head, she picked up the remaining sixteen she had placed in the bottle and set them back on the counter.

Frowning, Cuddy put the pills back into piles of five, but had one pile with only three after losing two. She bit the tip of her tongue, thinking. Gingerly, she picked up the three odd pills out and put them in her mouth.

They began to dissolve quickly, a bitter taste, as she turned the faucet on, soaking the empty orange prescription bottle. Cuddy drew the cold water into her mouth to help swallow the pills. Once she had, she turned the faucet off and dried her hands and face.

She drew in a breath as she padded back to the bathroom counter. Eight piles of five. Forty pills left. Twenty eight white, twelve blue.

The doorbell rang and she jumped. Cuddy hurried from the bathroom, turning off the light as she went. She left her bedroom and headed down the dark hallway to the front door. She unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Wilson was clearly concerned as he stood on her front porch. She let him in and he stepped inside cautiously, the darkness making him even more uneasy. Cuddy closed the door behind him.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "What happened?"

She couldn't look him in the face. "I... I'm glad you're here."

"You haven't let me in since you came home from the hospital," Wilson pointed out.

"I know," she replied.

Wilson waited for her to raise her eyes to him. "Why did you call me?"

"Can you... can we go into the living room?" she suggested, almost desperately.

"Sure."

Wilson gave a nod and headed for the living room. Cuddy followed after him and turned on the lamp as he took a seat on the couch.

"I'll get you a drink," she told him. "I only have water."

"That's... fine," he said.

"Okay."

Cuddy turned and walked out of the living room. She left the lights off as she went into the kitchen, but not before picking up the knocked over dining room chair.

As she reached for a glass from the kitchen cabinet, she felt the room shift around her. She brought the glass down and closed her eyes against the movement.

It was the pills. She drew in a breath, still keeping her eyes closed. Her head felt lighter, she was beginning to feel disconnected from herself.

"Lisa?"

She straightened and looked to the doorway. Wilson stood there, still very concerned. She forced a smile to her face and turned from the counter. Cuddy took a step toward the refrigerator, but stumbled.

Wilson was at her side in a moment, holding her up. He brought her to the dining room table and sat her down.

"You all right?" he asked.

"I need to lie down," she mumbled, eyes on his shoes.

"Lisa..."

She held onto him as she stood back to her feet. Wilson continued to support her as he led her from the dining room and to her bedroom. He helped Cuddy to her bed and she settled down onto her back.

"Are you feeling sick?"

"No," she groaned.

"Warm?" He placed a hand to her forehead.

"No," she replied.

"You feel a bit warm," Wilson told her.

"I'm not warm," Cuddy assured him.

"You may be running a fever," he said. "Do you have a thermometer? Let me get it."

Wilson moved around the bed and toward the bathroom. Cuddy sat up, the room swaying around her.

"James, no," she protested. "No, James!"

He flicked the light on as he entered into her bathroom. She watched the empty doorway for a moment before he reappeared. He was in shock as his eyes went to her.

"What're the pills for?" he questioned her, his voice calm.

"I wasn't going to take them," she quickly explained.

"How many have you already taken?" Wilson made his way back around the bed. "Is that why you're sick?"

He stopped beside her and picked up the phone from the night stand. Cuddy frowned, eyebrows drawing together.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Calling nine one one," he answered as he dialed.

Cuddy yanked the phone from him and hung up before he could hit send. She held the phone tightly.

"No," she protested. "I didn't—I only took three! Three of the white ones. They're making me... I'm just feeling a little... I didn't take any more than three. That won't kill me."

"The white ones?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Clonazepam," she clarified. "And only three."

"Where did you get that?"

Cuddy shook her head, her world blurring at the edges because of it.

"And the blue?" he said. "Valium?"

She refused to look at him. Wilson sat down on the bed and waited until she finally brought her eyes to him. He kept his voice even.

"How did you get them? Did House—"

"No," she quickly cut him off.

Wilson stood back up. He pried the phone from her and placed it back on the night stand.

"You're not staying here," he told her.

"What?" She stared at him, the drugs making him go in and out of focus for a moment. "Oh, God, no, don't do this. Please."

"You want me to leave you alone knowing you're going to take all those pills?" he asked, his voice rising in volume.

"I'm not—" She drew in a breath. "I wasn't going to..."

"Then, why were they out?"

Cuddy never heard that angry tone directed at her before from his mouth. He took hold of her forearm.

"Come on."

She resisted with a tug. "I don't think I can walk."

"Then, I'll carry you."

"You will not."

Wilson reached down toward her and wrapped an arm around her backside while his other slid beneath her legs.

"James," she pleaded. "God, please. Please, don't do this."

"You called me for a reason, didn't you?"

"I did, but please..."

He lifted her up, the swinging motion just enough to almost make her throw up. She clutched onto Wilson, her environment surreal. He carried her from the bedroom and headed toward the front door.

"Please, James," she begged quietly near his ear. "I don't want to go away..."

"You're not going away," he told her gently. "We're going to my place."


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey, guys! Sorry about being lame on responding to reviews. I really do appreciate them so much, but the end of the semester is kicking my ass. It's good the semester is almost over. Enjoy this chappie.**

* * *

House knocked gently on the apartment door with his cane. He could hear shuffling inside before the door opened. Wilson stepped back, allowing House room to enter.

"Hey," Wilson greeted as House stepped inside.

"Hey," House returned.

Wilson closed the door as House looked around the apartment, scanning for Cuddy. He didn't see her and he didn't hear anything. He brought his eyes over to Wilson.

"She asleep?" House asked.

"Yeah." Wilson gave a short nod and planted his hands to his hips. "Sleeping off some Clonazepam."

House's eyebrows drew together. "Where'd she get that?"

Wilson shrugged in response. "She's a mess. She needs help, House."

"It wasn't a suicide attempt," House told Wilson, still annoyed that he couldn't assure him of that over the phone.

"Then, it was a cry for help," Wilson replied. "She called me over there. If she hadn't called me, I'd hate—"

"But, she did call you," House cut him off. "I want to see her."

"She's in the bedroom."

Wilson led House down the short hallway to his bedroom. House peered in at the small figure in the bed. She was under the covers, curled up slightly with her eyes closed. House looked back over at Wilson.

"What did she say when she called you?" he asked.

"She sounded distressed, but didn't say much," Wilson answered.

House nodded, his tongue running over his bottom lip. "Wanna get me some coffee?"

"Yeah, sure."

Wilson headed for the kitchen as House entered into the bedroom. He made his way over to the bed and sat down near her feet. He shook her gently on her thigh.

"Cuddy," he spoke quietly. "Hey, Cuddy..."

"Hm?" She stirred and a sigh fell from her parted lips.

"What happened tonight?" House asked her.

Cuddy shook her head slightly. "I don't..."

"What?" he prompted.

"Don't want to talk," she clarified and sighed again.

"You tried to kill yourself," House said.

A frown crossed over her face. "No."

"Then, what were you doing?" he replied.

"Wanted to sleep, not think." Cuddy rolled over in bed. "Let me sleep?"

"Yeah."

House stood from the bed and left the room. He walked to the kitchen just as Wilson was bringing a mug to him. House took the steaming beverage from him and sipped it.

"She's unstable." Wilson folded his arms over his chest. "House, she needs more help than we can give her."

"She'll be fine," House told him. "Let her sleep it off."

Wilson shook his head. "You don't understand. There were a few dozen pills out on the bathroom sink. She could have taken them all."

"But, she didn't," House pointed out.

"Not this time," Wilson replied. "Look, I don't want to send her somewhere, but it's what'll be best for her. This is about her."

House shot Wilson a look. "I know it's about her. But, she doesn't need that."

"She doesn't need what?" Wilson asked. "Treatment? Therapy? House, she has an eating disorder and she's self destructive."

"She won't get better if she doesn't want the help," House reminded him.

"Maybe she'll realize she needs help if she's in a program," Wilson said.

House limped over to the sink and dumped out the rest of his coffee, making Wilson frown. As he turned around, House caught sight of the look and gave a shrug.

"Your coffee sucks."

Wilson let out a quiet sigh as House made his way into the living room. He sat down on the couch. Wilson entered the living room, but remained standing near the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Wilson asked him.

"Getting comfortable for the night," House answered and stretched out on the couch.

"Who said you were staying?" Wilson replied.

"Wouldn't want you to take advantage of Cuddy while she's drugged," House told him.

"Yeah, because I was going to do that," Wilson agreed sarcastically.

"See?" House raised his eyebrows. "That's why I'm here. To protect all womankind. Especially Cuddy."

Wilson narrowed his eyes at House, tired of his game. "I was going to sleep on the couch."

"Sleep in the chair." House nodded toward the chair across the room.

"Or you could go home," Wilson suggested.

"Nah." House shook his head. "I'd rather see the train wreck when she wakes up."

Wilson stood a moment, examining House. He knew he wasn't going to be able to get him to leave and he wished he hadn't allowed him to come over to begin with. Wilson turned the light off and made his way over to the armchair. He took a seat and tried to get comfortable.

"Jimmy?" House said.

Wilson let out a sigh. "What, House?"

"You made plans for her to get help, didn't you?" House asked.

"I made a few phone calls," Wilson answered. "A friend recommended me a treatment center. She pulled some strings and a Joshua McAdams will be coming by tomorrow to talk to Lisa."

"She's going to hate you," House replied.

"She can hate me all she wants as long as it helps her get better," Wilson told him.

"Right," House agreed, but didn't really believe it.

He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.

* * *

Cuddy turned over in bed. She had a funny taste in her mouth and she opened her eyes slowly. She identified Wilson's apartment and the previous night's events came flooding back to her.

She sat up a little too quickly and felt dizzy. Cuddy waited a moment before climbing from the bed. She needed to get out of his apartment. Her actions were embarrassing and she didn't want to face Wilson, she didn't want to talk about it.

Cuddy crept barefoot to the bedroom door. She didn't see Wilson, so she began for the front door.

"Lisa."

Cursing silently, Cuddy turned around. Wilson was walking toward her from the bathroom. She jumped slightly as House popped up from the couch. She remembered talking to House in a dream, but as she saw him there, she wondered if it really had been a dream.

"What are you doing?" Wilson asked as he stepped up to her.

"I'm going home," Cuddy told him.

Wilson shook his head slightly. "You're not going home, Lisa."

"Well, I'm not going to stay here to be babied," she replied.

"We need to talk about what happened yesterday," Wilson said.

"Nothing happened," Cuddy insisted. "I was just upset."

Wilson narrowed his eyes at her. "Lisa..."

"Don't," she warned as she took a step back.

He closed the gap between them. "I know you don't want to do this, but you need help."

"No."

"Cuddy." House limped toward them.

Cuddy glared at him. "Stay out of this."

"You called me last night," Wilson went on. "You were asking for help."

"I..." Cuddy shook her head. "No, I wasn't. I was just—" She glanced over at House. "—upset. But, I'm fine now. I'm going home. I have things to do."

"Exercise," House spoke up.

"No," she shot him another look.

"How do you expect to get home?" Wilson asked her.

"Walk?" House lifted his eyebrows at her and she glared for a third time.

"I called someone to see you," Wilson explained. "He wants to talk to you."

"Who?" Cuddy demanded, her full attention back on Wilson as she felt her anger rising.

Wilson took another step closer to her. "It's a program—"

"No!" She stepped back again.

"Lisa—" Wilson wanted to reason with her.

"I need to leave."

Cuddy turned toward the front door, but Wilson grabbed her at the wrist. He held her there as she struggled against him. House watched, surprised at just how forceful Wilson was being about this.

"You're not leaving," Wilson told her. "Not until you talk to him. Joshua—"

"No!" Cuddy continued to try to get away from him. "James. I didn't ask for this."

"You didn't have to," Wilson replied. "I'm doing this for you. Please. Just talk to him."

"You're going to make me go into treatment," she argued. "I can't do it."

"Lisa..."

He grabbed her by the other wrist, keeping her facing him. House continued to watch, not wanting to get involved. Wilson made eye contact with Cuddy.

"I'm not letting you go until you agree to stay."

She struggled a little more before letting out a cry of frustration.

"Fine! Fucking fine! I'll see him."

Wilson released her and she shoved past him as she went into his bedroom. She slammed the door closed behind her. House looked to Wilson.

"Way to go," House said. When Wilson didn't respond, he added, "you shouldn't go about it this way."

"And how would you go about it, House?" Wilson responded.

House shrugged in return. Wilson headed for the kitchen.

"I'm going to make some breakfast and coffee. Hopefully she'll eat something."

"She'll just take the coffee, if anything," House called after him.

Wilson entered the kitchen and began to make a fresh pot of coffee. House limped his way down the hall to the closed bedroom door. He tapped lightly on it.

"Cuddy..."

House tried the doorknob and was surprised to find it unlocked. He opened the door slowly, not wanting to make a sound and get Wilson's attention. He knew Wilson wouldn't invade her space right now, especially with Joshua coming, but House didn't care.

He stepped inside to see Cuddy curled up on the bed, her back to the doorway. He could hear her sniffling as he closed the door softly behind himself.

"Go away," Cuddy spoke up.

"It's me," House told her.

"I know," she replied. "He's in the kitchen."

House approached the bed. "He's hoping if you're in an environment where you see other women getting better, you may want that, too."

She sucked in a shaky breath and refused to respond to him. He stopped next to the bed.

"You really don't want to go, do you?" he asked her.

"No," she answered and wiped the tears from her face.

"I'll get you out of here," he said.

Cuddy sat up and looked over at him, thinking she misheard. "What?"

"I'll sneak you out," he went on. "We'll take Wilson's car."

She stared at him, unsure. "Why would you do that for me?"

"I think you're sick and need help," he told her. "But, I think Wilson's wrong about this."

"You mean it?" She lifted her eyebrows. "You're not just going to dump me off at some treatment program or hospital?"

"Did you lose your ability to trust along with your weight?" House replied.

"Since when have I ever trusted you, House," Cuddy responded as she climbed off the bed and began for the door.

"Hold on." House passed by her, stopping her. "I'll make sure we're clear."

He opened the door and stepped out into the hall. House looked to the kitchen to see Wilson cooking.

"I'm heading out," he called to him. "I don't want to see this freak show."

Wilson glanced over at him. "It's not a freak show, House."

"Not to you," House snapped back.

He waved Cuddy out of the bedroom as Wilson went back to scrambling eggs in the pan. She headed toward the front door and House limped behind her. He swiped Wilson's keys from the table beside the door and followed Cuddy out.

"Hurry," Cuddy called back to him as she headed for the staircase barefoot.

"No elevator?" House asked as he painfully limped down the stairs. He pulled out his Vicodin.

"It'd take too long to get the elevator," she replied. "Besides, it's only three flights."

Once outside, Cuddy stepped gingerly, trying not to hurt her feet on the rough and pebbly pavement. House kept up pace behind her as they went toward Wilson's car. He pressed the button on the small black controller to unlock the car doors and Cuddy climbed into the passenger seat.

House got in on the driver's side and started the car. He pulled out and drove off, seeing his motorcycle in the review mirror as he went. They traveled for several minutes in silence before Cuddy spoke up.

"So... where are we going?"

"I don't know yet," House told her.

Cuddy looked back out the passenger side window. "He's going to be mad."

"Then, he never should have called me in the first place," House replied and pressed harder on the gas pedal.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey, guys! Thanks for the feedback and comments. I really appreciate them. Here's the next chappie.**

**

* * *

  
**

They drove in silence until House reached over and turned the radio on. It was a classic rock station and he left it on. Her attention was focused on the passing scenery as she wondered where they'd go and how long they could get away with it.

House's cell phone rang and he already knew who it was. He pulled the phone from his pocket and answered it.

"You stole my car," Wilson accused.

"Borrowed," House corrected, keeping his tone bright.

"And you kidnapped Cuddy," Wilson added.

House glanced over at Cuddy, who was staring at him.

"She was willing," he responded to Wilson.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Wilson asked. "I'm trying to get her help and you whisk her away as some sort of savior. House, you can't—"

"You're breaking up," House cut him off and snapped his cell phone closed.

"I knew he'd be mad," Cuddy said as House put his phone on silent before putting it back in his pocket.

House gave a shrug. "Who cares?"

A quick plan formed as he spotted a fast food chain up ahead. House pulled into the parking lot of McDonald's and drove toward the drive thru. Cuddy tensed and looked over at him.

"What are you doing?"

He glanced at her. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

House entered the drive thru and put down the automatic window. He pulled up to the intercom and looked over at Cuddy again.

"Want anything?"

"Medium coffee," she answered.

"Welcome to McDonald's, can I take your order?" the machine spoke to him.

House leaned toward the window. "Can I get two egg McMuffins, two medium coffees, and one of those yogurt things?"

The employee calculated his meal and told him to drive to the next window. House pulled up to the window and popped open the armrest compartment. He took out the twenty dollar bill he knew Wilson kept there in case of an emergency.

House paid and pocketed the change before pulling up to the next window to collect their food. An employee with a headset on passed him the paper bag and their coffees. He handed the bag to Cuddy and set the coffees in the cup holders.

He pulled the car into a space in the parking lot and turned off the ignition. Cuddy cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Don't want to eat and drive?" she asked.

"And where would we be driving to?" he replied, making eye contact with her.

She handed the bag off to him and picked up the coffee that was closer to her. Cuddy took a careful sip from it as House unwrapped his sandwiches. They sat in silence as he ate and she sipped.

Cuddy focused her attention on the busy road in front of them as she tried to ignore the smell of House's food. He glanced at her from time to time as he ate, but otherwise his thoughts were on his next plan of action.

Wilson knew they were gone. He'd start looking for them despite not having his car. He'd check his place and Cuddy's, which meant those locations were out of the question. House wasn't going to take her to a motel or hotel, so that was out, too.

When he had finished eating the two sandwiches, he reached into the bag and pulled out the yogurt parfait. He held it out toward Cuddy.

"I'm too full to eat this," he told her, even though he had bought it for her in the first place. "Want it?"

She stared at the parfait. "No."

"Okay." House set it in the bag and dropped it into her lap. "Wilson paid for it anyway."

He started the car and pulled out of the parking space before heading back out on the main road. Cuddy stared down at the bag before looking over at House as he put his window back up.

"You're not going to eat it?" she asked.

"Nope."

Cuddy reached into the bag and took out the parfait and spoon. She examined the container, studying the ingredients and nutrition facts. She popped the lid and unwrapped the spoon.

House glanced over at her as she ate a small bit of the yogurt. She took another, larger, spoonful before putting down her window.

"What are you doing?" House said.

She tossed the parfait from the car and House watched the yogurt splatter on the pavement through the rearview mirror. He looked over at her.

"That bad?"

Cuddy crumpled the bag and tossed it to the floor. "I didn't want anymore."

"You could have just put it back in the bag and disposed of it like a normal human being," House pointed out.

"I didn't want to be tempted," Cuddy replied honestly.

"Of course," House agreed, figuring he should have expected an answer like that. He made a left turn.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To Cameron's," House answered, eyes still on the road.

She fell silent. She was curious as to why they were going to Cameron's, especially since she didn't particularly want to, but she was too tired to fight him on this or play any mind games, so she simply let her head rest against the seat and stared out the window.

* * *

Cameron answered the door in a pair of black yoga pants and a faded Brewers tee shirt. Her eyes went to House first, confused, but then she saw the small figure behind him and the sympathetic look House was expecting crossed over her face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"We need somewhere to go for now," House said as he pushed his way in, Cuddy following behind him. "And we need you to not tell Wilson we're here if he comes by or calls."

She closed the door behind them and looked to House suspiciously. "What's going on?" Her eyes fell on Cuddy's bare feet. "Why aren't you wearing shoes?"

"Cuddy, here, is sick," House explained and Cuddy kept her gaze on the floor. "We need some time to chill. You okay with that?"

Cameron eyed Cuddy up, concerned about how small her figure had become. She gave a nod.

"Sure." Cameron brought her eyes back over to House. "Do you want anything to drink or eat?"

House nudged Cuddy. "Want anything?"

Cuddy shook her head, keeping her eyes downcast still. House looked over to Cameron.

"No, thanks."

"Well, have a seat."

Cameron indicated the couch in her living room before heading toward her kitchen. Cuddy moved around the couch and sat down on it. House sat next to her and popped a Vicodin. He stared at Cuddy a moment, getting an idea.

"Hey, Cameron, come here," House called out and she entered back into the living room. He gave a nod to the space in front of him. "Stand right there."

"Why?" she asked.

"Just do it," he responded.

She made her way over to the spot he indicated and stood there. House nudged Cuddy for a second time.

"Cuddy, what do you think of Cameron?" he said.

Cuddy looked over at him. "What do you mean?"

"Think she's fat?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

"No!" Cuddy exclaimed and shook her head.

"You don't think she's a smidge overweight?" he went on. "Nothing?"

"No, she—" Cuddy made eye contact with Cameron. "You look great."

"Um, thanks?" Cameron replied, still unsure as to where House was going with this.

"How do you think you look in comparison to Cameron?" House asked Cuddy.

Cameron frowned and shot him a look. "House."

"Give me an answer," House told Cuddy, ignoring Cameron. "Truthfully. How do you think you look?"

Cuddy directed her attention to her hands in her lap. "I think I look fat, okay?"

"You think that, compared to Cameron, you look fat," House repeated, making sure everyone was clear on Cuddy's words.

Cameron stepped toward Cuddy, a slight frown still set on her face due to House's remarks. She placed a gentle hand on Cuddy's shoulder.

"Cuddy, you're not—"

"Take your clothes off," House cut her off.

"What?" Cameron took a step back, her eyes back on House now.

"Take your clothes off and let Cuddy put them on," House instructed.

Cuddy vehemently shook her head. "House, no."

"I want to prove a point," he explained.

"No, I don't—" she tried to protest.

"That's because you know I'm right," he jumped in.

"Fine." Cuddy folded her arms over her chest. "Whatever."

House looked up at Cameron. "Do it."

Cameron turned back to Cuddy, who wouldn't make eye contact. She let out a slight sigh and left for her bedroom. Once the door had closed, Cuddy shot a look to House.

"This is ridiculous," she said.

"Yes, your thinking is," he replied. "You'll see that."

The bedroom door opened and Cameron came back into the living room in a different attire, the clothes she had been wearing in hand. Cuddy stood from the couch and took them from her as she went to the bedroom.

"You think this'll help?" Cameron asked House.

"She needs to see," he responded.

Cameron sat down on the couch and several minutes passed before the bedroom door opened again. Cuddy emerged and slowly walked to the living room, the clothes too big for her. The pants were nearly falling off and the shirt completely hid her figure.

"Well, look at that." House stood to his feet. "Those clothes don't fit you at all. They're too big. Which, correct me if I'm wrong, means that you are _thinner_ than Cameron."

"Then..." Cuddy frowned and swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "Then, why..."

She turned from them and hurried back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Cuddy didn't understand how she looked at herself and saw herself as fatter than Cameron when the clothes blatantly showed her that was she was physically thinner.

Cameron stood from the couch and frowned at House. "Way to go, House."

She began for the bedroom, but House grabbed her arm, stopping her. She looked to him and he shook his head at her.

"I'll do it," he told her.

House limped to the bedroom as Cameron sat back down on the couch. He knocked gently on the door before opening it. Cuddy was sitting on the bed, dressed in the clothes she had been wearing before they arrived.

He limped toward her as she wiped her face with her sleeve. She held her composure for a brief moment before bursting into tears and placing her face in her hands. House stopped in front of her and stared down at her.

"I don't want to be like this anymore," she spoke through her sobs.

"Get help." His tone held no sympathy for her.

"I can't." She shook her head. "I'm scared. I'm so scared."

House softened slightly and sat down next to her on the bed. "Of what?"

She shook her head again. She was a mess. The tears wouldn't stop and she was feeling sick and her blood was pounding in her ears.

"I can't think," she said. "I don't want these thoughts anymore. Oh, God, I..."

Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. She was gasping for breath and her hands were practically shaking. House placed his hand on her arm.

"It's okay, Cuddy," he tried to reassure her. "Just breathe. Take deep breaths. You're all right."

"I'm not—" She drew in a deep breath. "All right. I don't—Oh, I need to—God."

Cuddy stood from the bed, spots forming in front of eyes before they disappeared. She began to pace. House stood as well and stepped in her way. He grabbed her by the arms, stopping her, and locked eyes with her.

"You need to sit back down until you're calm," he instructed her. "You're having an anxiety attack."

She shook her head, but she didn't fight him as he led her back over to the bed. Her breaths were still coming in short and shaky, her tears still falling.

"Calm down and breathe," he told her.

"I want to get help, I do," she spoke quickly. "I do, House, I'm just—It scares me. I want—I do want—I want to be okay."

Cuddy fell against him, crying into the fabric of his shirt. He placed a hand on her back, feeling the spine beneath her taut skin.

"See?" He spoke up. "You can want and get help without being forced into it. You know what you need, Cuddy. You've always known."

"I hate myself," she mumbled into his shirt and sniffled. "I hate this thing that I am now. I hate it so much."

"So, be like a phoenix, Cuddy," House told her.

Cuddy pulled back and looked up at him, her breathing finally beginning to calm. Her face was wet with tears and her eyes were still shining from unshed ones.

"What?" she asked.

"Rise out of this ash, this hell," he said. "You won't be your old self, but you'll be a new self. Burn all this shit to the ground and rise back out of it, better and alive."

She locked eyes with him. "Do you honestly think I can do this, House? Because I don't—" The heaviness of her tears cut her off. She drew in a breath before going on, "because I don't think I'm strong enough."

"If you were weak, you'd be dead by now," he replied.

Cuddy nodded and swiped at her tears. "You should call Wilson. Let him know I'm going to try."

House gave a small pat to her knee before standing and limping out of the room. Cuddy watched him go until he was out of sight. She drew in a deep breath before placing her face into her hands.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **I fail at life. Sorry for the lack of update for so long.

* * *

Wilson glanced over at Cuddy. Her gaze was fixed at the window, watching as the world passed by. He drew in a breath and focused back on the road. They'd be there soon.

"How are you doing?" he asked and glanced back at her again.

Cuddy bit her bottom lip. "I'm scared."

"That's reasonable," he replied.

She sat up straighter and looked over at Wilson. "What if they don't want me? What if I'm a bad patient?"

"They've dealt with a lot of patients," Wilson tried to ease her worry. "I'm sure you'll be nowhere near anyone deemed 'bad.'"

"What if they change their mind about me and kick me out?" she said.

"You need help, Lisa," Wilson told her. "They know that."

"Yeah," she agreed, disheartened.

"It'll be okay."

Wilson reached over and placed a hand on her knee. She looked down at his hand, wishing that was enough to comfort her. She shook her head.

"Maybe I don't want it to be," Cuddy spoke softly.

"What does that mean?" He removed his hand and brought his eyes to meet hers. "You want to stay sick?"

"No, that's not—" She paused a moment. "It's just hard. To recover or whatever. It isn't going to be easy."

"No, it's not going to be easy," he responded. "But, that's why you're not doing it alone."

"I'm sorry." Cuddy blinked back tears and turned back to the window.

"Don't apologize." Wilson gave a small pat to her knee. "You don't need to."

She drew in a deep breath, thankful he was there to help her through this. Cuddy enclasped her hands together to try to keep them from shaking, her nerves getting the best of her.

* * *

A woman in her thirties with blonde hair smiled at Cuddy. She took a step back, indicating for Cuddy to enter into her office.

"Hello, Lisa," the woman greeted her. "How are you?"

"Hi." Cuddy failed at forcing a smile on her face.

"I'm Diane," the woman told her. "Have a seat."

"Thanks."

Cuddy walked to the chair across from the desk in the room. She sat down as Diane closed her office door. She came around the desk and took a seat. She gave Cuddy another smile.

"You brought luggage?" Diane asked.

"They took it," Cuddy answered, her throat feeling dry.

"Okay." Diane nodded. "Good. Here's a copy of our rules and guidelines."

Diane pulled a packet from a pile on her desk and extended it to Cuddy. She took the packet from Diane and glanced it over.

"We want you to be comfortable, but we also want you to get better, so comfortability may be compromised," Diane said. "This isn't an easy process, but it can be done. Recovery is reachable. You'll meet with our doctor, our therapist, and dietician. You'll be weighed, examined, and evaluated. Then, I'll give you a tour of the building and show you to your room. That should bring us to dinner time."

Cuddy kept her eyes focused on the packet. She couldn't do this, she couldn't be here. There was too much happening at once.

"Lisa, are you all right?" Diane leaned forward. "Do you have any questions?"

"How long?" Cuddy looked up at her.

"What?" Diane lifted her eyebrows.

Cuddy cleared her throat and shifted in her chair. "How long do I have to be here?"

"Your insurance pays for sixty days," Diane told her.

"Two months." Cuddy gave a short nod.

"About that, yes," Diane agreed. "Do you have any other questions?"

"I just need to sit a minute," Cuddy replied.

"I know this is overwhelming, but we'll take it one step at a time," Diane assured her gently. "Why don't we go over the guidelines? You'll have to sign an agreement at the end."

"Okay," Cuddy responded, wanting anything to distract her. "Yeah."

"Follow along."

Diane pulled out another packet and opened to the first page. She began to read the mission statement of the Arnold Ridge Center as Cuddy, without meaning to, started to tune her out.

* * *

She was shaking. Cuddy placed her hands against the thin hospital-like gown she was wearing. The nurse, Marie, a short, plumper woman with spiky auburn hair, picked up a chart. She peered at Cuddy through her black framed glasses.

"Step backwards onto the scale, please," Marie told her and indicated the electronic scale.

Taking a deep breath, Cuddy carefully stepped backward onto the scale. She closed her eyes, helping to keep her from trying to look back at the digital number that popped up.

Marie made a note on the chart before placing an hand on Cuddy's arm.

"Okay," she said. "Step down."

Cuddy obeyed numbly. She was shut off and she still didn't want to be here. She did want to get better, but she wished she could simply go back in time and not go down this eating disordered path because recovery seemed long and terrible and she was sure she wasn't up for it.

* * *

Cuddy stared at the food remaining on her plate. She was trying to stay calm despite the fact that her time was almost up and she knew she wouldn't be finishing her meal.

"Your time's up," the dietician, Olivia, announced as she marked down the progress of the other patients.

Olivia was tall, thin, and sun tanned. She had long, straight dark hair which she kept up in a ponytail. Cuddy couldn't help, but feel a bit jealous at how pretty she was.

There were three other patients still in their seats as well. Cuddy looked around at them, eyeing up how much they ate. The women that finished their meals were permitted to leave.

Olivia sat down in the empty seat next to Cuddy. She checked out how much food was left on the plate before making a note in the chart she was holding.

"You'll have to take an Ensure," Olivia told Cuddy. "Two of them."

"I don't want them," Cuddy replied, feeling full and sick as it was. She couldn't handle being forced to drink two portions of ensure.

"You don't have a choice," Olivia said. "Either you eat your meal within the given amount of time or you drink Ensure to make up for the calories."

Olivia picked up Cuddy's plate and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned with three bottles of Ensure and placed two of them down in front of Cuddy, who merely stared at them.

"It'll get easier." Olivia gave a pat to Cuddy's shoulder.

"But, I'm full." Cuddy looked up at Olivia.

"Doesn't matter," Olivia responded. "You need to reach your caloric intake. Bottoms up."

Olivia moved on to the other three patients, handing off an Ensure bottle to another woman. Cuddy stared down at the Ensure in front of her. She felt nauseous. She took in a few deep breaths before reaching out and taking one of the bottles. She untwisted the cap and set it down on the table.

She swallowed hard. The drink was full of calories, calories that would lead to pounds being put on. Cuddy couldn't remember the last time she ate so much in a day. But, she wanted to get better and despite the fact that there were tears in her eyes, she placed the bottle to her lips and began to drink.

* * *

Cuddy stared at the ceiling. Her room was dark and she assumed her roommate was asleep. They hadn't spoken a word to each other besides a hello. As she remained awake, she wondered how long her roommate had been here.

She still felt sick and she longed to get out of bed and exercise. She would do anything to burn off those calories and it took nearly everything in her to keep herself in her bed.

However, Cuddy was willing to try it their way because she thought that if she got out and got better, then maybe she would feel better because for the longest time she had been feeling like hell and it was just so _tiring_.

"Still awake?"

Her roommate's voice brought her out of her thoughts. Cuddy looked toward the bed a few feet from her own.

"I saw you talking to Jess during down time," her roommate, Billie, continued. "Well, she was talking to you. You in with her now?"

Cuddy didn't know what to say. After dinner, Jess, a short, thin woman no more than twenty five-years-old approached her. She asked Cuddy if she wanted in on the underground games of exercising and avoiding food in the facility.

"Not all of us want to stay sick," Billie spoke again when Cuddy remained silent.

"I didn't want in." Cuddy's voice was quiet.

"I'm not in either," Billie replied. "I've got two kids. I need to get home for them, you know?"

Cuddy realized she had no one to go home for. She frowned.

"How old are they?"

"Matt is seven and Brea is four," Billie told her. "I miss them so much. I'm doing it for them."

"You should be doing it for yourself," Cuddy said.

"Are you doing it for yourself?" Billie asked her.

"I guess I am," Cuddy answered after frowning again. "I have no one else to do it for."

Billie was quiet for a moment before speaking up. "What do you do?"

"I run a hospital," Cuddy responded.

"Holy shit." Billie sat up in bed. "And you wound up here?"

Cuddy stared at the small form. "I need help."

"But, you're, like, a doctor, right?" Billie went on. "How does a doctor get an eating disorder?"

"I guess I just..." Cuddy paused a moment. How did she get to this place? "It sort of took over. Like a mind of its own. A constant voice, a constant want to be less."

"Yeah, I've got one of those." Billie settled back down. "Kept telling me I could be better. A better wife, a better mother. Losing the weight would make it easier to be better."

Cuddy turned onto her side, facing Billie's bed. "How long have you been here?"

"Starting my third week," she answered.

"Are a lot of the women here like Jess?" Cuddy's eyebrows drew together. "Do they not want to get better?"

"There's about four or five women I know are in with Jess," Billie told her. "Some don't want to get better yet. And some do because they've seen the bottom of the well."

"The bottom of the well?" Cuddy repeated.

"You hit rock bottom at the bottom of a well," Billie explained. "Hurts like hell, but you look up in even the darkest of your days and see the stars splayed out over you. That's how you know you can get better. And know you're not alone."

"I think you're doing this for you, too," Cuddy said. "For both you and your kids."

Billie was quiet and Cuddy soon heard the deep breathing of her roommate sleeping. Cuddy shifted in her bed and turned onto her back. She was tired, but being in this new place knowing that she had work ahead of her was keeping her awake. However, she shut her eyes and attempted to fall asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Cuddy was woken up and led down the hall to weigh in. Again, her nerves set in and as she stepped backwards onto the scale, she knew the number had to be higher than it had been the previous day.

It was over within a minute and she was given medication and ushered out of the room. As Cuddy took the pills that were suppose to help with anxiety, she wondered if everyone else was on some sort of medication, too.

Jess, the woman who had approached her yesterday, made her way towards her. She smiled and Cuddy did her best to smile back.

"You know your numbers went up, don't you?" Jess said.

"Probably," Cuddy replied.

"You sure you don't want in?" Jess asked. "We can show you how to hide your food, fake the nurses and everyone out. You don't have to give into them."

"I... I want to get better," Cuddy told her. "I don't want to stay this way."

"Suit yourself." Jess shrugged. "Get fat."

Cuddy frowned at this young woman standing in front of her. She didn't know what to say, but she knew Jess' attitude was affecting more people than herself alone.

"Jessica!"

Both women looked toward Marie, who indicated Jess to come to her with her pointer finger. Jess walked away from Cuddy without another word. As Cuddy watched her go, Billie stepped up next to her.

"I think they're going to give her the boot soon," Billie spoke quietly. "They know she's been dragging people down with her."

"But, she needs help." Cuddy looked over at Billie.

"You can only get help if _you_ realize you need it and want it," Billie responded.

Cuddy raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, I've learned that."

"We should get dressed." Billie began for their room. "Breakfast is in about a half hour."

"Great," Cuddy muttered as she followed after her roommate.


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry I suck so bad at updating this. But thank you to those who still read it and comment. I really appreciate it.**

**

* * *

  
**

Cuddy awoke, forgetting she was in this place. It scared her for a moment before reality settled back in. She was still in the inpatient program. She would be living here, with a roommate. And she was expected to get better.

She felt sick. She had been eating so much food since she'd arrived and it was still a difficult task to eat everything she was given. Of course, Cuddy was trying. After all, she wanted to get better and she certainly did _not_ want to die because of this.

Cuddy thought about her day. She had to go to weigh in before being forced to eat a big breakfast. And after that was her first one on one therapy session. She was nervous and not looking forward to it, but she knew she had to go and so she tried to calm herself with deep breathing.

* * *

The door to the office opened and Cuddy looked up from the chair she was waiting in. The doctor, Noreen, a tall woman with long dark hair led another woman out. Noreen looked to Cuddy.

"Hi, Lisa," she greeted her.

"Hi," Cuddy replied and stood up.

"I'm Noreen," the woman introduced herself as she ushered Cuddy into the office. "Would you like to sit down?"

Cuddy looked around at the office furnished in bright colors. There were two chairs opposite the desk and a couch near the wall. A few bookcases lined the walls.

"Here?" Cuddy indicated the chairs.

"There or the couch," Noreen told her. "Wherever you'd be more comfortable."

She sat down in one of the chairs across from the desk. Noreen took her seat at the desk and opened a notebook. She smiled at Cuddy.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked.

"Fine," Cuddy answered and cleared her throat.

"And how are you adjusting?" Noreen said.

Cuddy shrugged. "Okay."

Noreen made a note on her pad. "Do you have any questions about anything I may be able to answer?"

"No."

"We have thirty four more minutes." Noreen brought her eyes up to meet Cuddy's. "I hope we're not going to sit here in silence."

She didn't have a response, so she diverted her gaze to her lap. Noreen made another note, the pen on paper the only sound in the room.

"You run a hospital, is that right?" Noreen spoke up.

Cuddy looked back up. "Yes."

"There's a lot of pressure there," Noreen went on.

"Yeah," Cuddy agreed. "But I can handle it. I've always handled it."

"Something changed," Noreen replied. "You've never had problems like these in the past."

"No, not really." Cuddy shook her head. "I mean, I've dieted before, but it... never became this."

Noreen leaned back in her chair. "Why do you think it changed this time?"

"I don't know," Cuddy said. "I... got out of relationship. He broke up with me when I thought things were fine. I went on a diet and I never felt like it helped. And then there's—well, I know he doesn't mean it."

"Who doesn't mean what?" Noreen lifted her eyebrows. "Your boyfriend?"

"No, a... colleague," Cuddy answered, her thoughts on House. "He says things sometimes that—he's only joking. He doesn't know—"

"That his words hurt you," Noreen finished for her.

Cuddy shook her head again. "That's just who he is."

"You know, you don't have to take his verbal abuse," Noreen told her.

"It's not abuse," Cuddy responded, "it's House."

"What does he say?" Noreen asked.

Cuddy suddenly wished she never brought it up. "He makes comments and things, but it's House. It's not like I can't take his crap. I put up with it for so long."

"But you don't have to—"

"I do," Cuddy cut her off. "If I want him to stay at my hospital, I do. It's not about House though."

Noreen cocked her head to the side. "Then what is it about?"

"It's... I don't know." Cuddy looked down. "I don't want to... I want to go." She brought her eyes to Noreen and stood. "I'm done with this. I need to go."

"Lisa, calm down," Noreen said gently.

"Can I go?" Cuddy turned toward the door.

Noreen stood and headed around her desk as Cuddy made her way to the door. Noreen stepped in her way, cutting her off.

"Stay," Noreen told her. "Let's talk through this."

"I don't want to talk anymore!" Cuddy exclaimed.

"Sit back down," Noreen insisted.

"No."

"Please."

Cuddy let out a sigh and went for the couch. She sat down and rested her back against it. Noreen dragged one of her chairs over to the couch and sat.

"Now, what was it that upset you? Talking about House?"

"No. It's not about him."

"Then, what is it about, Lisa?"

"It's..." She drew in a breath. "I just... haven't been feeling good enough. I know I'm successful in my work, but that's about it. And it's sad. And men break up with me when I don't see it coming and maybe it's because of me or my work, but I don't... I don't feel in control. I just... I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Noreen told her. "Never apologize for your feelings."

Cuddy shook her head. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. I feel sick. I need a drink."

"I'll get you some water."

Noreen stood and filled a paper cup with water from the water dispenser in the room. She brought it over to Cuddy.

"Thanks." Cuddy took it and sipped. "Could we just... not talk?"

"We only have so many sessions, Lisa," Noreen said. "Talking about your problems, dealing with the stress and rejection you feel will help you heal faster. But if you just want to sit, we can do that."

"I'd just like to sit."

"Okay."

Noreen walked back to her desk and sat down. She began making notes and took out a few files from her desk.

Cuddy knew this would help her get better. But this week was killing her. She needed to adjust still, she needed to not feel so much like crap, she needed a good night's sleep. She realized she needed a lot of things.

She took another sip of her water.

* * *

Cuddy stared at the plate with a third of the food left on it. She wasn't going to finish it and she wasn't going to sit there and pretend she still might. She looked toward Olivia, who was recording another resident's food progression.

"I can't finish it," Cuddy told her. "I can't eat anymore."

Olivia lifted her eyes to Cuddy. "You'll have to take Ensure."

"Fine," she gave in bitterly, just wanting this meal to end.

Olivia recorded Cuddy's intake as an aide brought out the Ensure for her. She drew in a breath, mentally preparing herself. She felt so full, but she had to drink it. As quickly as she could manage without the risk of vomiting, she drank the Ensure she was given.

* * *

Billie was waiting for Cuddy outside of the dining room. She gave a smile when Cuddy emerged.

"You did well," Billie said. Cuddy didn't respond, so Billie continued, "we have group now."

Silently cursing, Cuddy walked with Billie toward the room they had group therapy in. It was a large room with calming light green walls. There were comfy couches and armchairs set up in a circle.

Cuddy sat down in a pink armchair while Billie sat in the blue one beside it. There were several other women already in the room, all waiting for therapy to begin.

This almost felt like torture to Cuddy. She hated the group sessions. She wasn't someone who wore her emotions on her sleeve and she certainly didn't like to cry in front of other people.

Of course, she wasn't forced to say anything. If she didn't want to share, she didn't have to. Her attendance was mandatory, but speaking wasn't and for that, Cuddy was grateful. Yes, she understood that this was to help her feel less alone, to be able to identify with these other women, but she felt it wasn't for her.

She just didn't see the benefit in sharing her story and her life with people who, most of the time, had it a lot worse than she did. Mostly, it just made her feel like she didn't have a right to her own feelings. After all, she wasn't abused and she wasn't raped like some of the other women there.

The topic for the day was to identify stressors in life and to figure out ways to deal with them. Cuddy passed on speaking, but listened intently. Her own stressors were identified by other women anyway. Work stressed her out, relationships, especially the failure of said relationships.

And as Cuddy listened to the discussion, she thought about herself and she thought about her life. She brought herself to this point, her life had brought her here. It was something she never imagined for herself. After all, she was Lisa Cuddy, she always flourished in her life goals.

Until she was older, until she was lonely, until she was hoping to remain youthful, to remain in relationships if maybe, just maybe, she could still be that thin, beautiful, and smart woman.

She shook her thoughts away and looked at the clock on the wall. She couldn't wait for therapy to be over.

* * *

Billie was at her side again right after group therapy was through. They were ushered outside for some supervised fresh air. Billie was talking about how art therapy had really been helping her while Cuddy was only half listening.

She found a large tree and sat down near it, but remained in the sun. She wasn't feeling well and simply want to rest. Cuddy relaxed onto her back as Billie sat down in the shade. Closing her eyes, Cuddy let the sun warm her.

"Are you all right?" Billie asked, noticing that Cuddy had been very quiet.

"No," Cuddy answered honestly.

"What's wrong?" Billie replied.

"I feel heavy," Cuddy told her.

"Yeah, that happens," Billie said.

Cuddy opened an eye and looked toward Billie, squinting. "You don't have to stay with me. You can go play tennis or something."

"Nah, I'd rather stay here in the shade." Billie ran her fingers through the grass. "How was therapy with Noreen?"

"Okay, I guess." Cuddy shrugged.

"She's really nice," Billie commented.

"Yeah," Cuddy agreed.

She fell silent as Billie plucked out blades of grass.

* * *

"Are you okay? Lisa?"

Cuddy drew in a breath as quietly as possible. She was trying to be quiet, but crying made her nose run and when her nose ran, she became very sniffly. They had gone to bed over an hour ago, but Cuddy's mind wouldn't shut off.

"I'm fine," she lied.

"You're crying," Billie replied.

"I wish I never started this," Cuddy told her. "My life was good before this. Or, at least, it wasn't this hell. I want to go home."

"If you get better, you can," Billie pointed out.

"But I don't want to gain the weight back," Cuddy said. "What if it makes a big difference?"

"Don't think of it like that," Billie responded. "Think of gaining weight as getting healthy again. You're sick right now. We both are. As much as it sucks to put weight on after all we went through to get it off, we'll be healthy again. Healthy enough to _go_ home."

"Yeah," Cuddy sniffed. She closed her eyes, tears slipping out. "You're right."

"It'll get easier," Billie assured her. "Just give it some time."

* * *

After breakfast, one that Cuddy miraculously managed to choke down, they had time to go outside again. Cuddy asked Billie to let her be alone awhile to collect her thoughts. Really, she just wanted some quiet. As she walked through the garden, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Hey."

Cuddy turned around quickly, not believing it. House stood there, just a few feet from her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "How did you get in?"

"It isn't prison, Cuddy," he replied.

"It feels like it," she commented gloomily.

"I walked away from a tour," House explained his cover. "Been really worried about my niece."

"I bet." Cuddy's eyebrows flicked up.

"Are you getting better?" he asked her.

She shrugged. "I'm eating more. They want me to put on weight."

"You need to," he said.

Cuddy ignored his words. "How's the hospital?"

"Fine," he answered brightly, but then lowered his tone. "I mean, terrible without you."

She glared. "You don't need to humor me."

"I know."

"So what'd you come here for?" She glanced around, wondering if anyone was seeing them conversing and finding it suspicious.

"To see you," House stated simply.

Her eyes quickly went back to him. "Why?"

"I need to..." He cleared his throat. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What?" she asked, a little curious.

House drew in a breath and spoke sincerely. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she replied, really not sure as to why he was apologizing. After all, he was the one that helped convince her to go to this place.

"For things I may have said that ever made you feel... less than beautiful."

She shook her head. "House, you don't need to—"

"No," House stopped her. "Wilson was right. I've said things to you—"

"I know you were only ever trying to get a rise out of me," Cuddy told him. "I get that."

He paused a moment, thinking about her response. "Then why did it get this far?"

"I don't know." She gave a small shrug. "I guess I started to think that maybe you were right."

"Well, I'm always right," House replied. "Just not about this. You don't deserve to be here. Get better and get home because someone as strong, beautiful, and kind as you are should back in charge of your hospital where you belong."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, House."

"Hey, sir!" Diane, the woman that had explained the rules to Cuddy when she had first arrived, was hurrying toward them. "Excuse me. We seem to have lost you."

"I was asking this woman for help on getting back to the group," House easily lied.

"I'll get you back with everyone," Diane assured him.

House turned to Cuddy. "Thanks."

"Bye," she said.

"Bye," he replied softly and followed Diane back to the building.

Cuddy watched him until they both disappeared back inside. She blinked back tears and drew in a breath. She really wanted to get better and go home.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey guys! Thanks for the comments on the last chapter. Sorry it's taken me a while to get this one out. I'm sorry if you left a review and I didn't respond. I'll try to be more vigilant this time around.**

* * *

Cuddy stared up at the ceiling, her hands folded over her abdomen. She was thinking a lot since House visited and she really _did_ want to get better and she really _did_ want to change. Most of all, she wanted to go home.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Cuddy said, knowing Billie was still awake.

"What?" Billie replied from her bed.

"My life," she went on. "I'm not supposed to be here."

"Where should you be?" Billie asked.

She drew in a breath and shook her head. "In my hospital being that person everyone knows. Not some..."

"Not some what?" Billie prompted further when Cuddy didn't go on.

"I almost died," she told her, a lump forming in her throat. "My heart stopped."

"That happened to a friend of mine," Billie responded quietly.

"I wanted to stay sick." Cuddy wiped away at the tears forming in her eyes. "Even then. I mean, how sick is _that_?"

"But you don't feel that way anymore, do you?" Billie turned onto her side, facing Cuddy's bed.

"No," she answered. "I want to go back to the way things were. I mean... as hard as _this_ is... I want to be better than this. It's so damn hard and... I don't know how it got _this_ bad."

Billie was silent for a moment. "You can get out of here, Lisa."

Cuddy nodded and sniffed. "So you can you, Billie."

"No, yeah, I mean..." Billie cleared her throat. "Yeah, I know. I'm going to get out. Goodnight, Lisa."

"Night," she responded, but knew she wouldn't be falling asleep for quite some time.

* * *

"It was the control I liked," Cuddy explained as Noreen listened intently during their one on one session. "It was the control I was drawn to. I've always been a perfectionist. I just... got these ideas into my head about not being good enough. I wanted a family. But to start a family, I would have liked a husband. I haven't faired so well in that department.

"I figured... there had to be something wrong with me. And House was always making jokes. And he's usually right about things. I thought maybe a diet would be a good idea. And then I just... something snapped... or clicked... or... and everything became different. And I kept seeing myself as a failure."

"But you're not a failure," Noreen pointed out.

"I don't always see myself that way," Cuddy explained. "Things just... they weren't going well. God, I sound like a spoiled brat. I mean, I've got this great job and I've accomplished so much, yet... Lisa Cuddy can't be grateful."

"It's those thoughts that keep you at risk," Noreen told her. "Why do you feel you don't deserve your feelings?"

Cuddy frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You're chastising yourself because you're unhappy in your life," Noreen replied.

"Because I shouldn't be unhappy," Cuddy said. "And I shouldn't feel like my life is so terrible. I have so much..." She paused, thinking. "Maybe that was never my path. To be a wife to someone and to have a child. I just can't help but _want_ it though."

"It's okay to want all of those things," Noreen assured her. "What is not okay is being hard on yourself for wanting them."

"I'm not," Cuddy replied. "I mean... I guess I just feel that I'm asking too much. If I have the job and the money and the reputation, then maybe I should be satisfied with that."

"But you're not satisfied," Noreen pointed out.

"I tried to be." She lowered her gaze to the floor. "I want to be. And I don't want to be. Some people get married right out of college. Or find a mate soon after they graduate." She looked back up at Noreen. "I didn't. I wanted my career and I feel that maybe I did things backwards. Or I asked too much out of life. Or that I'm asking too much now. I just don't feel happy. Not like I used to."

"Okay, so we'll work on getting you happy again."

"How?" Cuddy asked, thinking that it would be hard to find a way. "How do I stop being... I don't want to be this hard on myself. I don't. I'm tired."

"Well, Lisa, we can do this one step at a time," Noreen informed her. "We've just got to change the way you look at yourself and your life."

"I just don't know how this all got so messed up in my head," she confessed. "I've _never_ been... like this."

"That could be caused by many factors," Noreen told her. "Stress, chemical imbalance, past relationships, low self worth. It's a combination of nature and nurture that brought you to this point."

"But I can be fixed?" Cuddy raised her eyebrows.

Noreen smiled at her. "Of course you can be fixed. We've made wonderful progress today. Before our next meeting, I want you to make a list of the things that have put you down, that have made you critical on yourself. We'll talk about those and we'll begin working on seeing them in a new light. Okay?"

"Yeah," she agreed and stood from the couch.

Noreen stood as well and accompanied Cuddy over to the closed office door. She opened it for Cuddy and she stepped out.

"Lisa."

Cuddy stopped and turned, waiting for Noreen to go on.

"You've really made great progress."

"Thanks."

Cuddy offered a weak smile and headed for the elevator that would take her upstairs. When she returned to the common room, she found it to be empty, except for a woman zoning out in the corner. She frowned, slightly confused, and wondered where everyone had gone.

Two paramedics brushed by her with a gurney and turned the corner, heading for the bedrooms. Cuddy followed after them to see a crowd gathered in the hall.

The nurses were trying to usher the women back to their rooms. It was that moment when Cuddy realized they were gathered around _her_ room.

"Billie," she muttered.

Cuddy hurried down the hallway, fearing the worst. A nurse she had never seen before stepped in her way, stopping her.

"You need to go to your room, please," the nurse told her. "The medics need—"

"That is my room," Cuddy cut her off.

Marie, the head nurse on the floor who took care of weigh ins and medication, walked over and took Cuddy by the arm.

"Come on, Lisa," Marie said and led her back to the common room.

"What happened?" Cuddy asked, certain that she still appeared terrified.

"Billie is—" Marie dropped her voice very low. "Dead."

"What?" Cuddy stood grounded, causing Marie to stop as well. "What do you mean she—I don't understand. How—"

"She killed herself," Marie spoke quietly and calmly.

Cuddy stared in disbelief. "How?!"

"Come on."

Marie escorted Cuddy into the examination room and closed the door. She helped Cuddy sit on the exam table.

"I'm very sorry," Marie told her.

"What happened?" Cuddy asked, still not processing the information.

"She was alone in the room and took the light down from the ceiling," Marie explained. "She used the glass to hurt herself."

"And she's dead?"

"Yes." Marie gave a sad nod. "I'm sorry."

"She wouldn't do that!" Cuddy exclaimed. "She had kids. She was hopeful."

"She was lying to everyone," Marie told her.

"I should have listened to her more." Cuddy lowered her eyes to the floor, not believing this. "I was so selfish."

"This isn't your fault." Marie rubbed a comforting hand up and down Cuddy's back.

"If I had listened more or asked her more questions about herself, maybe I could have known. Maybe she would have confided—"

"Lisa, please, Billie was hiding herself from everyone," Marie tried to reason with her train of thought. "Even her doctors. There's always one that lies so much, she has everyone convinced."

Cuddy looked to Marie. "She has kids."

"I know." Marie nodded. "We're putting the women in their rooms until we sort this out. Your room needs to be cleaned, so I'll ask you to wait in the common area, okay? Unless you'd like to go to Noreen's office."

"I wouldn't have anything to say," Cuddy responded.

"Okay. Come on."

Marie led Cuddy back into the common room. Cuddy took a seat on the couch as Marie escorted the zoned out woman back to her room.

Cuddy placed her face in her hands. She couldn't believe Billie was actually dead. It made no sense. She never saw the signs that Billie was suicidal. For all she knew, Billie was planning on getting out soon to see her children.

'_Well, she did get out_,' Cuddy thought to herself as she lowered her hands.

She looked over and saw the paramedics wheeling the body covered in a sheet down the empty hallway.

* * *

"Lisa?"

"Hm?"

She looked up. She had been distracted. Her food was growing cold and she was playing with her corn—lifting it and letting the pieces fall.

"Time," Olivia reminded her with a smile.

Right. She needed to hurry up unless she wanted Ensure. Cuddy scooped the corn into her mouth, but she wasn't hungry. She knew she wasn't eating because she was upset, but that meant nothing here. She _needed_ to eat.

Olivia sat down in the empty seat beside her. Cuddy looked over at her, eyeing her up.

"How are you feeling?" Olivia asked.

"I'm just not very hungry right now," Cuddy said.

She had to drink Ensure for dinner last night and breakfast today wasn't much better. Cuddy didn't want her lunch to be a failure too. But her thoughts were on Billie. On the fact that she could swear there were remnants of the blood stains on the floor.

"Try to finish," Olivia encouraged her. "Seven more minutes."

Olivia made a note in her chart and stood from the table. Cuddy forced herself to eat more, the thought of drinking any more Ensure making her want to throw up. She finished the meal and went to lay down in the common room after being dismissed.

* * *

Cuddy stepped away from the window after taking her medication. She sat down in a chair against the wall in the common room and waited for free time to start. She wondered what she would do for that hour.

"All right, ladies." Marie emerged from the nurse's station, a smile on her face. "Books, cards, games, art. Free time starts now. I don't want to hear fighting. The smokers can meet with Patty and she'll take you outside. Lisa."

Cuddy raised her head and looked over to Marie.

"Can I see you?" she asked.

A little reluctantly, Cuddy stood from the couch and walked over to Marie. She placed a hand on Cuddy's back and steered her toward the elevators.

"Noreen wants to see you," Marie informed her.

"What did I do?" Cuddy said, concerned.

"Nothing," Marie assured her. "She just wants to speak with you."

Cuddy headed into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. When she arrived at Noreen's office, the door was closed. She sat down in the waiting area, unsure if she was supposed to knock.

After a minute, the door opened and Noreen waved her in. Cuddy sat down on the couch and Noreen sat in a chair across from her.

"What's this about?" Cuddy asked, a little afraid of the response.

"How are you feeling?" Noreen avoided answering the question.

"Tired," Cuddy told her.

"Why?" Noreen prompted.

"Couldn't sleep well last night," Cuddy replied. "It was a restless sleep."

Noreen sat back against her chair. "Do you know why that might be?"

Cuddy paused a moment and let out a sigh. "Billie."

"What about Billie?" Noreen responded.

"How could she kill herself?" Cuddy's voice came out much harsher than she meant it to. "She was getting better. She kept talking about wanting to see her children. It doesn't make any sense. If she would have said something..."

With another sigh, Cuddy lowered her gaze to the floor.

"It's not your fault," Noreen said.

Cuddy nodded. "I know that."

"You're not the doctor here," Noreen reminded her. "We're the doctors. You leave this on us, okay? I know you care, Lisa, and it's good that you're connecting with others, but don't forget about yourself."

"It's just not fair." Cuddy raised her eyes to meet Noreen's.

"What isn't fair?"

"That women hurt so much."

She stood and walked away from the couch. Cuddy drew in a breath and stopped at the front of Noreen's desk. She stared down at the smooth surface of the wood.

"Women in group spoke of being raped, being abused," Cuddy went on. "None of that's ever happened to me. These women have problems that I've never dealt with. I feel I don't belong here. I don't deserve this illness. Like I didn't earn it."

"It is common for abused women to fall victim to eating disorders," Noreen explained, "but they are not the only ones. Not being victimized like they have doesn't make your issues worth any less."

"All I kept thinking about was myself when it came to everything," Cuddy responded. "And maybe if I hadn't... maybe if I had talked to Billie more or cared more, she may be alive."

She sat down in the chair across from the desk. Her elbows went to her knees as she placed her face into her hands.

Noreen made her way over to Cuddy and set her notepad on the desk. She knelt down in front of her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You came here to help yourself, fix yourself, not Billie," Noreen told her. "It sucks that she died, but it isn't your fault and you can't change it now."

"I just feel so guilty."

Cuddy let out a breath and hoped this heavy feeling would eventually go away. On top of everything else she was forced to deal with, it was almost unbearable.


	15. Chapter 15

**WARNING:** SENSITIVE and TRIGGERING material. AND ***WARNING*** This chapter deals with particularly sensitive subjects such as child abuse, mentions of rape, and sexual abuse.  
**Author's Note:** I am always apologizing for getting this out to you sooo late. I am really sorry. I wanted to post this for days, but tests and school owns me.

* * *

It was several days later and Cuddy was reading in her room during their free time. Usually, the staff tried to get the residents involved in group activities, but they were permitted for alone time in their bedrooms as long as the doors were kept open.

Marie, the nurse, entered with a young woman. Cuddy looked up from her book and realized this must be her new roommate. A set of luggage had been put on the bed since before breakfast.

"Lisa." Marie gave her a smile. "This is Kelsey. Kelsey, this is your roommate, Lisa."

"Hi," Cuddy greeted her softly.

"Hey," Kelsey responded with a nod.

"I'll let you get unpacked," Marie told Kelsey. "Suitcases go under the bed when you're done."

Kelsey stepped into the room as Marie left them alone. Cuddy eyed her up her new roommate as she began to unpack. Kelsey had to be older than eighteen, but she looked as though she was fifteen. Her long dark hair was thin and tied in a braid down her back.

Cuddy tore her eyes away from her and continued to read. She thought of Billie for a moment, but pushed the image of her from her mind.

"You're pretty old," Kelsey spoke up and closed her dresser drawer.

"Thanks," Cuddy replied a bit sarcastically as she looked up from her book.

"No, I mean... sorry." Kelsey approached her. "That came out wrong. It's just... most people I know with this are young."

"Yeah, well..."

She went back to trying to read. Kelsey turned away from her and continued to unpack. She placed a few shirts in a dresser drawer.

"My mom sent me here," Kelsey said. "I mean, I _guess_ I agreed. But I didn't really want to come. Not really."

Cuddy closed her book and brought her eyes to the young woman.

"Do you want to get better?" she asked.

"Yes and no." Kelsey sat down on the bed Billie used to occupy. "Yes because it's not good for me to be this way. No because I don't want to gain weight. I don't like fat. I don't want any fat on me."

"You could build muscle," Cuddy suggested.

Kelsey shrugged and flopped back on the bed. She let her thin legs dangle over the edge of the bed as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Does the food here suck?"

"No," Cuddy answered. "But they make you eat it all."

She sat back up, horrified. "Really? All of it? Every last bite?"

"Pretty much." Cuddy nodded. "With a time limit."

Kelsey flopped back down and let out a dramatic sigh. "I want to die."

Cuddy set her book aside and stood from her bed. She wasn't really up for a discussion about the facility and she didn't really want to hear Kelsey whine. She headed for the door.

"Where you going?" Kelsey called from the bed.

"Bathroom."

She left the room and walked down the hallway toward the bathroom. They were generally unmonitored during the day. It was usually only after mealtimes that a nurse was kept there to make sure there were no women trying to throw up what they ate.

Cuddy entered the bathroom and found it empty. There were three stalls on the left and three sinks on the right. Beyond that were the showers. She went into the last stall and tended to her business. A curse slipped from her lips when she noticed the blood.

It wasn't that she didn't want her period. She knew it meant she was not underweight and that she was healthy. But getting it meant she was not underweight and was a reinforcement that she had put much of her weight back on.

'_But_,' she reminded herself, '_the goal was to put weight on and to be healthy again_.'

Still feeling a little upset she washed her hands quickly and headed for the nurse's station. Marie was behind the counter, typing on the computer. Cuddy stopped in front of the counter.

"Yes?" Marie asked, looking up at her.

"I need—" Cuddy lowered her voice. "I got my period and I don't have any..."

"Oh." Marie stood from her chair. "That's good. Tampons or pads?"

"Tampons." Cuddy continued to keep her voice low, a little embarrassed since she wasn't aware of any of the other women having their periods.

Marie walked to the closet behind the counter and opened the door. She took out a purple box and brought it over to Cuddy.

"Here," she said and gave her a smile as well.

"Thanks."

Cuddy took the box and hurried out of the common area. She went for the bathroom, but Jess, the antagonist of the facility, caught up to her side before stepping in her way.

"Well that's a huge step in the wrong direction," Jess told her with a smirk.

Deciding to ignore her and not give in to her by responding, Cuddy attempted to move around her, but Jess continued to stay in front of her.

"First periods, then blubber," she added.

Cuddy stopped moving and frowned at her. "Just leave me alone, Jess. It isn't any of your business, all right?"

Jess glared. "You can talk down to me all you want—"

"I wasn't."

"But you're the one packing on the pounds," Jess went on. "You're gaining back all that weight you worked so hard to lose. And for what? It's weak. You were strong and now you've caved."

"Would you shut up?" Cuddy rose her voice, gaining attention from some of the other residents. "If you don't want to be here, then leave. All you're doing is destroying the morale of the women wanting to get better. That's sicker than even being here in the first place. If you want to starve to death while you're here, the least you can do is have the decency to leave everyone else out of it."

"What's going on out here?" Marie spoke up, hands planted firmly on her hips as she stood in front of the common area.

"Nothing," Jess immediately answered.

"Jessica, come into the common room," Marie instructed. "Lisa, go back to what you were doing."

Jess shot Cuddy a look before heading toward the common area. Cuddy watched her go for a moment before entering the bathroom and letting out a heavy sigh.

* * *

It was colder outside than usual. Cuddy picked up her pace as she walked over the expanse of the grounds. She liked going outside and getting fresh air, but being outside only made her think of how Billie was _not_ outside; how her kids were left without a mother.

She stopped beside a tall tree and looked back toward the facility. She watched some of the other women. Most of them were sitting in the grass or on benches, talking. A few were walking around, a couple were writing.

"Want one?"

Cuddy jumped at the sound of the voice and looked toward the woman who resembled someone close to her own age. She was wearing dark, baggy clothes and her hair was long, messy, and dirty blonde. Cuddy recognized her from the facility, but didn't know her name.

"Want one?" she repeated and extended an open pack of cigarettes.

"No, thanks," Cuddy answered with a tight smile.

"'Kay." She pulled the pack back towards herself. "You lived with that chick who killed herself."

"Yeah." Cuddy nodded.

"Why'd she do it?" She took a long drag on her cigarette.

Cuddy gave a shrug. "I don't know."

"You lived with her," she pointed out. "Did she seem a little off? A little down?"

"Why are you so interested?" Cuddy responded, becoming defensive.

"I'm a writer." The woman flicked at her cigarette, causing some ash to fall. "Crazy shit fascinates me. Are you sure you don't want one?" She held out her pack again. "Make you less hungry."

"No," Cuddy refused. "I need to eat if I want to get out."

"You getting better?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I hope."

The woman blew smoke from her mouth. "I've been in and out. I've been in about five facilities. Well, four. One of them was a psych ward. The rest were for this mess. I'm Liz, by the way."

"Lisa," Cuddy offered.

Liz smiled at her. "I know."

"If you've been in four facilities like this, that means they never helped you," Cuddy concluded.

"Well, the first two times, I didn't want help," Liz explained. "I was forced into it. Then I wanted to get better and I did for a while. But it came back. Like a cancer. Went into remission and the fucker came back. So what did you in?"

"What do you mean?" Cuddy stared at her, a bit confused.

"What caused it?" Liz rephrased. "You know, what made you snap?"

"I didn't snap so much," Cuddy said. "Well... not exactly. It's... it's a control thing... I guess. A lot of things have been..." She trailed off, trying to find her words. "I want a lot out of life, or I expect more, and I've been trying for a while to get the kind of life I imagined I would have and it wasn't working... and somehow I wound up here."

She fell silent and brought her gaze over to Liz. Liz was watching her and she took a long drag on her cigarette.

"Sorry if that doesn't make sense," Cuddy quickly added.

Liz shook her head. "Nah, it's good."

"What about you?" Cuddy asked. "You don't talk much in group."

"Neither do you." Liz flicked her cigarette to the ground.

"I'm not used to it," Cuddy replied, still not all that comfortable sharing her emotions with a group of women she hardly knew.

"I just think it's lame." Liz pulled another cigarette from the pack. "I mean, _feelings_... what the hell, you know? Right?"

"I guess."

Liz placed the cigarette between her lips and lit up.

"You sure you don't want in on one of these?"

"I'm sure." Cuddy gave her another tight smile. "Thanks."

She became quiet for a second time and kicked at a leaf on the ground. She knew there wasn't much time left before they had to go in. Liz was staring toward the building, inhaling the vile toxins into her lungs.

"Do you think they're helping you this time?" Cuddy spoke suddenly, breaking the silence. "Do you think it'll go back into remission or... whatever?"

Liz shrugged. "I don't know."

"What brought you here?" Cuddy went on with her questioning. "Like what happened that..."

"What happened to me?" Liz responded.

"Yeah," Cuddy agreed.

"You ever been raped?" Liz waited and Cuddy shook her head. She smirked. "Me neither. Incest is different."

"Not if you didn't want it," Cuddy replied.

"What if I did?" She cocked an eyebrow, smirk still on her face, before she looked away.

Cuddy took a step closer to her. "With your father?"

"My mother." Liz kept her eyes on the ground.

"Really?" Cuddy raised her eyebrows.

"It was _real_ fucked up." Liz brought her gaze back up, a smile on her face. "She was a crazy bitch. Dead now, though, so..." Her smile faded. "It's not like I gotta impress anyone. Shit."

She took a long last drag on her cigarette before dropping it to the ground.

"They're calling us in."

Cuddy had been so focused on Liz that she hadn't noticed the other women were heading back indoors. Liz headed for the main building.

"See you around," she called back to Cuddy.

Liz picked up her pace, leaving Cuddy behind. She stayed a moment longer, taking in Liz's story and wondering if she had been messing with her. She seemed to have spoken lightly of the subject as if in jest.

Cuddy crushed the still burning cigarette with her shoe, putting it out, before walking toward the main building.

* * *

"Today we're going to talk about relationships."

Cuddy enclasped her hands together and glanced around at the other women in the group. She felt it was another meeting she'd remain silent in. It wasn't like she had nothing to say, but she was never the type to share her problems with everyone.

"Mothers, fathers, children, husbands, boyfriends, aunts, uncles," Noreen went on. "Any relationship. Good or bad. How did they make you feel? How did they contribute to your current condition? How did they help you to get better? Floor's open."

She listened for a while, the same old routine, but every once in a while, she would catch Liz's eye. Liz would smirk and Cuddy had to look away in order to not smile while someone was crying while talking about their abusive mother.

As Noreen was relaying supportive information back to one of the women, a woman whose name Cuddy had forgotten, she forced herself to sit straighter in her chair. She raised a tentative hand.

"Yes, Lisa." Noreen gave her a nod and a smile.

Cuddy's eyes met Liz's for a moment before she looked back at Noreen.

"I'd like to share," Cuddy said. Noreen gave her an encouraging nod, so she continued, "I wasn't good enough. Not entirely. My parents expected a lot out of me, nothing I couldn't handle... and as I got older, I accomplished many things in my life."

She drew in a deep breath, eyes scanning over the faces of those interested, some not so interested, and finally Liz.

"But I was failing when it came to finding someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and creating a family, having those people who I would love and would return that love. I wanted a husband, kids... but time was running out. And as I kept trying, kept dating, I found that I still wasn't good enough. Something had to be wrong with me. It couldn't be them."

Cuddy paused a moment, swallowing hard. She lowered her eyes to her hands.

"And so I tried to be better. I tried to figure out what was wrong with me and I turned to my body." She raised her head. "I guess that's easier. Turning to the physical. It's easier to change that than to try and turn criticisms inward. I ran more, ate less, and before I knew it... I was in way over my head. It brought me here."

"How do you feel now?" Noreen asked. "About yourself?"

"I'm... ashamed I've led myself here," Cuddy answered.

"There's nothing to be ashamed about," Noreen told her. "You're getting help and you're getting better. This is your first time sharing in group and that is a major step, Lisa."

"I want to take a major step."

It was Liz. All eyes were on her. She leaned back in her chair, smile on her face.

"Great, Liz," Noreen responded. "Go ahead."

"I was in _love_," Liz began a bit dramatically. "Like... you know, like someone really cared about me and _loved_ me just for being who I was. Of course, there was the sex."

She let out a low, throaty laugh. Cuddy shifted in her chair, a little uncomfortable, but interested to see where Liz was taking this.

"I mean, it was a way of showing me that she loved me," Liz continued. "And I wanted it too. Initiated it sometimes when she was mad at me. I didn't know it was 'wrong' until I got older and realized other kids didn't do it. I'd been fucking around with my mommy since I was five." The smirk came back. "How's that for a relationship?"

It was silent for a moment before a young woman with short red hair spoke up.

"You're lying."

Liz shot her a glare. "And you're a manic depressive Jew virgin."

"Liz, why do you have to be a bitch all the time?" another woman spoke up, but Cuddy couldn't tell which one it was.

"I'm not a bitch, dyke," Liz hotly replied.

"I'm not the one who slept with my mother," the same woman retorted.

"Whoa," Noreen cut in loudly. "Stop it."

"Hey, _asshole_," Liz was still directing her words to that same woman. "I'm trying to _share_ my fucking _feelings_." She looked to Noreen. "Isn't that what you want, _Noreen_?"

"Liz, I'd like you to go down to my office," Noreen told her. "Now, please."

Liz stood up and stormed to the door. She stopped at it and glanced back at Cuddy, making eye contact, before leaving. Noreen rose to her feet.

"As for the rest of you, that kind of behavior and name calling is _not_ tolerated," she spoke very harshly. "Do you understand? This a _safe_ place. The information shared here is personal and can be very painful to talk about." She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. "That's all for today."

Noreen headed out of the group circle and left the room. The women sat for a moment before going towards the door. Cuddy remained seated, thinking about all the progress she had made while also thinking of all that Liz may have undone in her own recovery.


	16. Chapter 16

**Wow. Sorry I suck at updating, guys. But thanks for continued reading. You are all awesome.**

* * *

Cuddy was sitting in an armchair by the window, looking down over the grounds and watching as birds played in a small fountain. She was thinking about her hospital, what she was missing out on while she was gone. She wondered what sort of antics House had been up to.

"Did you like the show?"

The voice startled her. Cuddy turned to see Liz standing over her. Liz gave her a smile and sat down on the ledge of the window. Cuddy eyed her up a moment before speaking.

"Was that real?"

Liz frowned. "You think I'm lying too?"

"It's not that." Cuddy shook her head. "It's... It was the way you spoke about it."

"Yeah," Liz agreed. "Guess it's like a defensive thing or something. That's what _Noreen_ says. I dunno."

She stood and turned toward the window, looking out.

"I'm really sorry," Cuddy told her.

"For what?" Liz turned slightly toward Cuddy.

"Those things your mother did to you," Cuddy said. "It wasn't right nor fair to you."

"Well... thanks." Liz smiled and gave a shrug. "No sweat. Listen, you want to play a card game or something? Checkers maybe?"

"Sure," Cuddy agreed and stood from the chair. She followed Liz as she went to retrieve a game from the Nurse's station.

* * *

Noreen had made her wait alone in her office and Cuddy didn't particularly like being in there by herself. Not only was she there when it wasn't her scheduled appointment, but it felt empty without Noreen's presence.

The door opened and Noreen entered. She gave Cuddy a smile and made her way over to her desk. Once she was seated, she locked her eyes on Cuddy.

"Lisa, there's something very important that I'd like to talk to you about," Noreen said.

"Okay," Cuddy spoke, a little unsure.

"Don't be nervous," Noreen told her. "It's all right. We should probably start talking about what happens when you leave here."

"I'm getting out?" Cuddy asked, sitting up straighter.

"Soon," Noreen answered. "Your weight is back in an average zone, you're eating well, and you've been working hard in therapy."

"When do I get to leave?" Cuddy replied.

"As long as these improvements keep up, by the end of next week," Noreen responded.

"Okay." Cuddy nodded, taking all of this in. "So what does happen when I leave?"

"I'd like you to do an outpatient program," Noreen informed her.

Cuddy's eyebrows drew together. "What does that mean exactly?"

"It's bi-weekly sessions where we discuss food intake, stress, and any issues you may be having," Noreen said. "You'd also be expected to attend group sessions."

"Oh." Cuddy looked down at her hands.

"I know you don't like group," Noreen went on, "but it's healthy to listen, even if you don't want to speak."

"How long will I have to be in outpatient?" Cuddy asked, meeting Noreen's gaze.

"It depends on your progress, but things look hopeful for you, Lisa," Noreen told her. "You're really trying hard and I can see that."

"Thanks." Cuddy smiled slightly.

"Do you have any questions?" Noreen said.

"No." Cuddy shook her head. "Not now."

"Okay," Noreen replied. "You can head out. We'll talk later this week."

"Thanks."

Cuddy left Noreen's office and headed back upstairs. She was excited to have the chance to go home. She wanted to be back at work, to have a purpose in her life again, but this want also brought fear. The fear of what others would think, the fear she would relapse.

As much as she had wanted to pursue this disorder as she was falling down the rabbit hole, she really wanted to be better now. She realized how unhealthy her obsession had become, much like someone addicted to drugs. But she wanted to be better now, she wanted her old life back.

When Cuddy walked into the common area, Liz immediately came over to her. She looped her arm through Cuddy's and took her toward the couch and chairs set up near the corner of the room.

"What was that about?" Liz asked as she flopped down on the couch.

"What?" Cuddy replied and sat beside her.

"You usually have afternoon appointments," Liz said. "What's up?"

"She said I'm done soon," Cuddy told her. "With inpatient."

"No shit." Liz smiled. "You lucky bitch."

"I guess," Cuddy shrugged.

Liz frowned, confused. "You don't want out?"

"I'm a little nervous," Cuddy spoke honestly. "I'd have to go back to work and face everyone now that they know what I've been through."

"Fuck 'em," Liz replied.

Cuddy smirked at her frankness. "Easier said than done."

"So what?" Liz stood from the couch and stretched, tired of sitting. "Everyone's got problems."

"Mine were a little too public," Cuddy told her. "I'm supposed to run a hospital. How can I do that if I can't even take care of myself?"

"Being here is taking care of yourself." Liz sat on the arm of the couch. "Come on, Lisa. Don't give me that crap. You know you're good enough for the job."

"You have such faith in me and yet, you don't even know me," Cuddy said, glad for the encouragement from Liz, even if she felt it was a bit undeserved.

"What can I say?" Liz shrugged. "I'm confident in my friends."

"Thanks." Cuddy smiled at her.

Liz's mouth fell open, suddenly remembering the information she had acquired. She dropped down onto the couch and scooted toward Cuddy.

"So, guess what I found out." Liz kept her tone hushed.

"What?" Cuddy asked, a little unsure.

"Your roomie's a puker," Liz responded with amusement.

Cuddy drew back. "What?"

Liz's smile grew. "Saw her hacking up her insides in the stairwell. Pretty fucking stupid. They caught her before she could get a second go at jammin' her fingers down her throat."

"Is she okay?" Cuddy's eyebrows drew together in concern.

"Hell if I know." Liz pressed herself into the couch, turned off since Cuddy wasn't find this as funny as she did. "She put up quite a fight though. Kicked that foreign nurse right in his unibrow."

"What'd they do with her?"

"Sedated her because she was flippin' her shit," Liz went on. "I think they called her parents too. Oh well."

Liz stood from the couch, too antsy to stay seated. She made her way over to the nearest armchair and sat down there. Cuddy kept her eyes on her the entire time.

"Do you think she's going to be all right?"

"She'll come around, but ten bucks says she'll relapse after release." Liz picked at the green fabric of the chair. "Some don't want to get better."

"Do you?" Cuddy asked.

"Yeah." Liz continued her picking. "But God hates me so..."

Cuddy frowned and moved down the couch, closer to Liz. "Why do you say that?"

Liz looked up at Cuddy, a coldness behind her eyes. "Do you think God _loves_ the people he tortures?"

"I don't think he hates you, Liz," Cuddy spoke sincerely.

"Thanks for the confidence, kid." Liz forced a smile on her face and stood. "I'm going to have a smoke. Wanna go?"

Cuddy sat back and shook her head. "No, thanks."

"See you later."

Liz walked away, her step fast and a little upbeat. Cuddy watched her go, wondering what was in store for Liz in the future and how long she'd still be here once Cuddy had left for good.

* * *

"Hi, Lisa, come in."

Cuddy closed the door to Noreen's office behind her. She made her way toward the chair opposite Noreen's desk.

"It's official," Noreen told her with a smile. "You're getting out on Friday. Ten AM. Do you want someone to pick you up?"

"Yes," Cuddy answered without thinking as she sat down, but then realized she had to make the decision as to who would pick her up.

"You can use my office phone to make the call." Noreen moved the sleek black phone toward Cuddy.

"Thanks." Cuddy picked up the receiver.

She paused a moment, making a quick decision, and then dialed the number. Cuddy waited through two rings before the phone was picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, James," she said into the phone.

"Lisa." Wilson was surprised to hear her voice on the other end. "How are you? Are they treating you okay? House told me—"

"I'm getting out," Cuddy cut him off, wanting to make this a quick phone call.

"You are?" Wilson replied.

"Yes," Cuddy answered. "On Friday morning. I was hoping you could pick me up if you don't have any appointments or anything. I'd really appreciate it."

"Sure," Wilson agreed without hesitation. "Of course."

"Thanks," Cuddy responded, relieved.

"How are you?" Wilson asked.

"I'm doing well," she told him. "A lot better."

"That's great to hear," Wilson said.

"I have to go now." Cuddy glanced at Noreen. "But I'll be discharged around ten."

"Okay," Wilson replied. "I'll be there."

"Thank you." She smiled slightly to herself, realizing just how much she missed her friend. "Goodbye."

"Bye, Lisa."

Cuddy hung up the phone and smiled at Noreen. "We're all set."

* * *

The rest of the week went by quickly for Cuddy. The thought of getting out only pushed her to work harder on getting better. She wanted to leave this place feeling like she could recover completely from this misstep in her life.

When the morning finally arrived for her discharge, Cuddy was excited. She had faith that she would never return to an inpatient program again. She wouldn't miss the lifestyle, she wouldn't miss the rules and restrictions, but she felt she would miss some of the people, especially those who were her allies.

There was one goodbye she wasn't looking forward to saying. Liz stepped into her room just as Cuddy was finishing her packing. Her roommate wasn't there and Liz lingered in the doorway.

"Hey," she spoke up.

Cuddy turned. "Hi."

Liz entered into the room. "So... this is it."

Cuddy nodded, words failing her right now. She felt almost like she was betraying Liz by leaving her there.

"It was nice knowing ya, Lisa." Liz sat down on Cuddy's bed with a bounce.

"You, too, Liz." Cuddy smiled at her.

"Well, thanks." Liz offered a small smile in return.

"You should work hard," Cuddy said and sat down between her suitcase and Liz. "You should try to get out soon too."

"What?" Liz stared at her a moment. "You want me to visit you at your hospital? Just stroll right into your office? I'm not the kind of company you keep."

"I wouldn't mind," Cuddy told her honestly.

Liz smiled widely this time. "I feel like you're lying."

"I'm not," Cuddy insisted.

"You say that now..." Liz trailed off and stood. She walked toward the window. "But it's okay. I plan on getting out soon. Then heading west. I wanna go where it's warm and not down South. Some of those fuckers suck."

"Right," Cuddy agreed for the sake of agreeing.

"Take care, Lisa." Liz turned and approached the bed. "Don't let the fuckers here get you down. I mean, you've been running that hospital how long before getting sick? It's not like you were always defeated by this shit."

"Yeah," Cuddy responded.

Liz drew in a breath, her eyes locked with Cuddy's. "See ya around."

"Bye."

Cuddy stood from the bed as Liz headed toward the door.

"Liz."

She turned at the doorway. "Yo."

"Take care of yourself, too," Cuddy told her.

"Always do."

Liz smiled and walked out of the room. Cuddy drew in a breath and picked up her suitcase from her bed. She took it with her as she walked out of her room.


End file.
